


Green Light

by t0rn3ss



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blow Jobs, Cock Worship, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Hand Jobs, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Online Dating, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Relationship Negotiation, Rimming, Sexual Repression, Situational Humiliation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:25:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 24,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0rn3ss/pseuds/t0rn3ss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harriett goes behind John's back and sets up a profile for him on a dating website. John has a secret side to him that he fears will surface if he starts dating again, which leads him to feel incompatible. After a little persuasion from Harriett, Clara, and even his therapist, he decides to go on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this story:  
> Harriett isn't an alcoholic, and she's happily married to Clara. John is living with them. John is bisexual. John feels as if he's sexually incompatible. I'll be using certain names from the series, but not the actual person. Kinda like they're secondary characters. Though, feel free to believe it's actually them if you want. Lastly, I have a feeling my version of Sherlock might be a tad more...nicer than usual? Or maybe just towards John. I'll let you decide for yourself.
> 
> Also, my chapters are short.
> 
> Also, I don't own these characters or anything from the Sherlock canon. Thank you, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

John fell into the same routine day after day. His morning routine started when he woke feeling groggy and sleep deprived from the never ending nightmares that woke him throughout the night. He only ever managed about five hours of sleep at best. He swung his legs over and off the side of the bed and let his feet press against the cold wooden floor panels. It was never a pleasant feeling, and it made him feel crankier about his lack of sleep. He sat up and stretched, and felt an uncomfortable pull in his left shoulder; a constant reminder of everything that had happened to him. A reminder of why he had nightmares. A reminder of why he was back in London.

 

“John, breakfast will be ready in ten,” he heard a female voice call out to him through his closed bedroom door; yet another reminder.

 

Once John had been invalided from Afghanistan, he had moved into Harriett and Clara's flat, and resided in their spare bedroom. It wasn't exactly comfortable living with his sister and ex-girlfriend-now-sister-in-law, but it was the best option he had when he came back home. His army pension helped pay for his bit of the rent, rather than paying for a single flat to live in by himself. Harriett had wanted him to move in, however. She feared the thought of him living alone after what he had been through, and though he'd never admit it aloud, he feared it too. Harriett and Clara had offered him the extra room under the condition he'd attend weekly therapy to help deal with his PTSD. It seemed like a simple and reasonable compromise, so he easily accepted the terms.

 

He pushed himself off of his bed and onto his feet; the cold of the wooden floor still felt no more pleasant on his bare arches. He winced a little as he limped his way carefully over to his cane, and quickly used it to help take the pressure and strain off of his bad leg. He also grabbed his morning robe and threw it on over his shirt and boxers. He didn't bother to tie the belt before he opened his door and made his way to the kitchen.

 

The instant John opened his door, the aroma of bacon and eggs filled his nostrils. The smell was welcoming and pleasant to him, but it had made his stomach growl and grumble. He may have felt groggy and achy, but the thought of stuffing food into his mouth and filling his stomach had put a little bit of life back into him.

 

At the table, John easily noticed the already large amount of food piled up on his plate. It was about twice the amount he'd normally ate in the mornings, which wasn't very much to begin with since he'd been back home. He stared at it for a moment before raising a brow at Harriett, who added another scoop of scrambled eggs to his plate. Harriett was all smiles. A lot more than usual. John looked over at Clara, who started to eat and refused to make eye contact with him.

 

“What's all this?” John nodded towards his plate.

 

“Breakfast, Johnny, what else does it look like?” Harriett still hadn't stop smiling.

 

“I can see that. I have enough food on my plate to feed a family of four, now I'll ask again, what's going on?” John looked between Harriett and Clara a few more times.

 

“Don't be cross, John-”

 

“Harry made you an online dating profile last night, without first consulting you about it,” Clara shook her head and tried to hide a smirk.

 

“Come again?” he asked after taking his first bite of eggs.

 

“It's just, you've seemed so lonely since you go back, and we thought-”

 

“No, no, no,” Clara interrupted. “ _We_ did not think. _You_ did all the thinking, while _I_ told you not to meddle.”

 

John continued to eat his eggs, and sighed as he tried to make up his mind on how he felt about the situation. On one hand, Clara was right. Harriett had no right to meddle and go behind his back, but knowing his sister, he also knew her heart was in the right place.

 

“I can't say I'm entirely happy about you not talking to me about this, but I'm really not interested in dating anyone right now, and probably not for a while at that. Besides, who'd want to date a poor sod like me anyway?” John let out another more deeply sigh, as he picked up a piece of bacon and started to eat it.

 

“You and Clara dated for six months.”

 

“Then she left me. For you, might I add,” John chuckled to himself. At one point, he had been bit bitter, but he and Clara had settled their differences, especially when it came to Harriett's sake.

 

“Look, John, I know I told Harry not to meddle, but maybe you should give it a try, you know? Just a small trial run. We paid for your profile, so the least you could do is go on a few dates. Humor us.”

 

“You _paid_ for my account? You know there are plenty of sites that are free, right?” John stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth, as he raised his brow at the two.

 

“Yeah, right. No free account or website is worthy enough of finding a match for my brother. I want it to find a proper match for you. So, what do you say? Go on a few dates, Johnny?”


	2. Chapter 2

After breakfast, John had showered and shaved, and dressed to face the rest of his routine for the day. He had therapy today, but at least he'd have something to talk about, for once. Usually, it was the same thing week after week; he'd go in, sit down, be asked the same basic questions, and he always answered them nice and short. He didn't entirely hate going, but he didn't particularly like it either.

 

“It's good to see you again, John.”

 

“Ah, yes. Likewise,” he forced a bit of a smile out.

 

“So, anything new in the life of John Watson?”

 

John had begun to tell his therapist about the dating profile. He told her how, even though he didn't say anything, he was a tad annoyed by Harriett and Clara's insistence that he should go on a date or two, and how he felt obligated one he found out they paid money for quality service, just for him.

 

“When was the last time you properly dated someone, John?”

 

“I'd say, back when I was still in uni. Dated this girl for two years until she broke it off. Mary was her name,” John held back the bit of heartache that lied there. He wasn't willing to take a trip down memory lane.

 

“Have you been with anyone more intimately since then?”

 

“Well, there were a few instances when I was in Afghanistan, but nothing serious.”

 

“Since it's been such a long time, are you scared to date or the thought of forming a connection with someone again?”

 

John had to stop and think. There were plenty of reasons he was scared to be close to someone again. Reasons he didn't mind admitting to, and reasons he wanted to keep to only himself. This is where he needed to decide if he really wanted to open up. Thoughts plagued his mind, and started to break his heart. He wasn't suitable for anyone. Freak. Weirdo. Gross. Sick bastard. Disgusting. These were things he heard from other girls back in uni and a few guys in Afghanistan. They were all the things he chose to believe about himself. He swallowed hard as he attempted to suppress these thoughts once again.

 

“A solider with PTSD who has frequent nightmares about getting shot and watching his squad die around him? I'm sure everyone's lining up to spend their life with me. My life has lost it's purpose, and I'd be nothing, but a burden to anyone who gets close to me,” John swallowed hard. Just because this was a safer road, didn't make it any less painful to admit.

 

“How do you know that without trying, John? Maybe a little companionship in your life would help give it a little more purpose. You don't have to let someone in right away; that will take time and trust. But maybe you should try this dating site out a bit. Think of it as a social experiment. Maybe it will help you get out a bit of this funk you're in. The worst thing that would happen, is that you don't hit it off, so you try again. I'd say give this website a month to try to find someone who is compatible with you. There's someone for everyone,” his therapist reached over and patted his hand before announcing that their hour had concluded.

 

John let out a slight sigh of relief. He was really worried that she'd see through him and poke and prod till she got to the real underlying problem. Or perhaps she did see it, and decided not to pry. S _till has trust issues_. She had written that down during their second meet, when he failed to write anything for his blog. He still hadn't written a thing, but he looked at it everyday. He contemplated writing out his deepest secret, but instead, he'd just stare at the screen. No one could understand the burden it was that he carried. The part of him that effectively pushed so many people away and made him feel incompatible. The John Watson that Mary Morstan had created.


	3. Chapter 3

After John had left his therapy session, he decided to head on back home. He felt a little ashamed with himself since he had three different people tell him that he should go out and start dating again. He knew he had every right to refuse; he was his own person, after all. He could continue to live his life, day to day feeling as empty as the day he had been invalided. He could keep to himself, and grow old and lonely for all he cared.

 

Once he got home, he went straight to his desk and sat down at his laptop. He turned it on and let it boot up. He leaned his elbow against on the desk and rubbed his eyes; the lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him. He shook his head out a bit hoping to help wake him up a bit as he heard a shuffle at his door. He picked his head up to see Harriett leaning against the door frame with a smile still shining as bright as it did earlier that morning.

 

“Okay,” John started to say, but paused before he continued, “show me this website...”

 

After about twenty minutes of showing John around on the site and letting him view his new page, Harriett encouraged him to fill out all of his information. She insisted that they both take a look at some of his potential matches once he finished. He hadn't really planned to do this with his sister, but he wasn't going to refuse her request. Plus, at some point, he felt that he would need some of his sister's approval for who she thought was good enough for him. She was far more excited about all of it than John was. Seeing how happy she was slowly help him give into the thought of going on a date in the near future. It was going to happen.

 

They spent another twenty to thirty minutes clicking around on all sorts of profiles, men and women alike. There were some that were cringe worthy for the both of them, some that didn't live up to John standards, and even some that sounded great, but Harriett didn't like them.

 

“Who's trying to go on a date here, huh?” John teased her. He was actually having a bit of fun with this.

 

“Hopefully you, John,” John and Harriett turned to see Clara coming in to join them. She kissed Harriett before looking at the screen. “Have you found anyone yet?”

 

The three of them spent a little more time browsing profiles, reading people's information, looking at pictures, and critiqued them one-by-one. However, Clara had quickly grown tired of it all and left. Harriett followed shortly after her, leaving John to himself. He was grateful for the bit of peace and quiet, and decided to seriously give a few profiles that intrigued him a bit of a closer look.

 

The first profile he looked at was some man named Sherlock Holmes. The name struck John as odd, but different. He was a rather handsome looking fellow. Dark, curly hair and piercing blue/green eyes; John couldn't decide which color they resembled more. John scrolled down, but there didn't seem to be a whole lot of information listed. His page looked rather blank and empty. _Consulting detective._ He had never heard of that job before. _London._ John was glad that he was at least close by. There had been a few people that seemed to live too far away to bother with.

 

Other than that, there was nothing else that was listed. If John had trusted and followed his instincts, he'd agree that this was a crack profile, and knew he shouldn't bother to waste his time on someone who hides their information from others. He felt a little hypocritical, but shook the thought away. What stopped John from completely closing out of his profile and moving on for good, was seeing the status on the profile. _Sherlock is online_. John hovered the mouse over the send message button, before clicking on it. As the new page loaded, he rested both of his elbows on his desk, intertwined his hands together, and rested his chin on his hands.

 

John sat there and thought. _It's a first date. It's been years since he's been on a date. Was he ready to meet someone new? Who cares if his information is limited? He could be a fraud though. Or he could be shy or reserved. There are plenty of others on this site I could go on a date with. Why not? He's online. He's good looking. Better say something soon._

 

John brought his hands down to his keyboard and started typing away.

 

_Hi, I'm John. I saw your profile pop up under my potential matches list and saw you're in London. I'm not very keen to the idea of meeting up someone online, but I was wondering if you'd like to meet up to go have a drink or possibly dinner sometime._

 

John hit send, and waited a few moments while his anxiety started to rise a bit. He started to think about getting rejected. He wouldn't be surprised, everyone rejected him, so why was some stranger on the internet any different? He heard his laptop ding, and it dragged away any of the thoughts he had for a short moment. He saw he had a new message, and it was from Sherlock. John opened it, but was surprised to see it was a short message. He instantly thought it was a rejection, until he read it closely.

 

_Tonight. Angelo’s. 7pm._

_-SH_

 

The corner of John's mouth twitched a bit as he started to smile. He was a little relieved that he hadn't been rejected. He also felt a few butterflies in his stomach as he came to realization that he had a date. Not only that, his date was in just a few short hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sherlock's profile picture](http://www.benedictcumberbatch.co.uk/_Media/sherlock3.jpg)


	4. Chapter 4

After John let his nerves settle a bit more, he closed his laptop and headed out to the kitchen. Harriett and Clara were chopping vegetables and preparing dinner as they occasionally sipped on some wine. They hadn't heard him come in until he cleared his throat and they looked over and smiled at him.

 

“Well, looks like I've got a date at seven,” John nodded once, still not fully believing what he was saying.

 

Harriett stopped what she was doing and had come over to hug him. She told him that she was happy for him, and Clara said so as well. He offered to help out with dinner, but they insisted that he take the time to get cleaned up and dressed up for his date instead. He rolled his eyes, because he had plenty of time, yet Harriett insisted he should get ready regardless of time. He shook his head and turned to head back to his bedroom. He hardly felt himself limp as much as he had that morning, but he always tried to ignore his stupid leg.

 

Once he was back in his room, he opened his closet and rummaged through the clothes that he had hung up for something decent to wear. Normally, he'd wear a jumper since it was cold at night, but he remembered how Sherlock had been dressed in his profile picture. It made him seem like the kind of guy who always dressed up nice. John did own a suit or two, but he felt that it would be a bit too much. If anything, he felt as thought he would be overdressed if he wore it. Instead, John grabbed a charcoal colored long sleeve button up shirt he hadn't worn in a while, and picked out a nice grey vest to wear over it. He also noted that he needed to change into a better looking pair of pants, so he settled on some darker jeans with no rips or tears.

 

Once he had changed, he checked himself out in the mirror, and admired his looks for a bit. His outfit made him look and feel a few years younger, which was nice, and he also thought he looked pretty handsome. He picked off a few pieces of lint from his shirt, and then proceeded to leave his room again. He found Harriett and Clara curled up on the couch with their glasses of wine in hand, watching some movie on the telly. Clara was the first to spot him, and her jaw dropped once she saw John.

 

“Look at you. If I had known you could look so good, maybe I wouldn't have left you for Harry here,” Clara nudged Harriett a bit.

 

“Hey now, _you_ proposed to _me_ , remember?” She laughed and kissed Clara, which gave John enough time to sit down with them. “So, who's the lucky winner tonight?”

 

“Some bloke named Sherlock Holmes,” as he spoke, Clara handed him her glass of wine, before getting up to grab an extra glass and the bottle of wine from the kitchen counter. John took a swig before continuing, “I don't really know much about him, his profile was kind of lacking in information, but he is rather good looking.”

 

“You know what you should do, John? You should bring him back here later tonight,” Clara poured herself a drink and topped the other glasses off.

 

“Yes, he should. You should bring him back here for a nice shag,” Harriett started to laugh and Clara joined in with her. John wasn't particularly amused with the enjoyment they were getting out of this, but he blamed it on the wine. Those two got pretty ridiculous when they drank together.

 

“I really don't want to be given advice as to what I should do to another man, from my sister and my ex, thank you. And besides, this isn't some one night stand I'm seeking, you know,” John took another big sip, which turned into a gulp, which lead to him chugging the rest of his wine down. He felt his nerves getting the better of him again, so if he drank just a little before he left, he'd a bit more relaxed by the time he got to Angelo's.

 

“There are plenty more people on that site, Johnny. Don't take this one so seriously. However,” Harriett started, but then dropped her voice to a low, sinister tone, “you should bring this bloke back home, take him in your room, into your bed, and shag his pretty little mind out.”

 

John rubbed his eyes and held out his empty glass to be filled once more as the other two laughed again. He had hoped to leave the house with a bit of confidence, but the talk of bringing someone home and sleeping with them had started to worry him. On the one hand, he really did want to have sex. It had been quite a while since he had gotten off with someone else, and masturbation and porn only got him so far anymore. On the other hand, he worried he'd end up scaring him off if he one, tried to ask and pursue on the first date, and two, succeeded, but got a little out of hand part way through. He couldn't even think about how he'd feel if this man stormed out of the house and caused a scene. Perhaps, bringing someone home wasn't the best choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [John's date outfit](http://i589.photobucket.com/albums/ss335/soophelia/Sherlock%20BBC/013.jpg)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialog in this chapter is not verbatim from the show, and I did this on purpose. They're based off the lines to help fit for how I'm telling this story. This will apply in the next chapter as well, but I'll be sure to make another note of it.

When the time had passed, John found himself a block away from Angelo's. He felt his heart beat in his throat, but he kept on walking, and occasionally looked down at his watch. It was a few minutes before seven. When he got closer, he slowed down his pace and hesitated as he reached the door. Even as he reached for the handle, he drew his hand back and ran it through his hair. He took a deep breath before reaching for the door again, and allowed himself to enter.

 

John looked around for a few moments and scanned the faces across all the tables before he saw a man who was surely Sherlock. He took another deep breath before he made his way over to the table. The man had been texting away on his phone, and never peeled his eyes away from the gadget. To John's assumption, he hadn't been spotted yet, so he could easily turn and leave and blow the date off, but John's legs betrayed his doubts. He made his way to the table, but stopped short a few feet away waiting for the man to look up at him. He still hadn't. John stood there for a few moments before he cleared his throat quietly.

 

“Sherlock?” he tried to keep his voice sounding casual and quiet, as to not disturb the man if it hadn't have been him.

 

“John, I presume,” Sherlock let out a bit of an annoyed sigh as he finished up his text and put his phone away in his pocket. His eyes met John's as John pulled his chair out to join him at the table. “So, Afghanistan or Iraq?”

 

“I'm sorry?” John had only just started to sit down, and he furrowed his brows.

 

“Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?”

 

“Afghanistan... Sorry, how did you know?" John hadn't recalled if he had put his soldier status on his profile or not. He didn't want to flaunt it, seeing how he didn't want people to glorify him for it after he had been sent home. He didn't recall typing it out, so how could this man possibly know?

 

Before the conversation could carry, the manager had come over to greet Sherlock personally, sat some water down on the table, and declared that they could order anything they wanted on the house. John was a bit confused as to why, but he sat in silence and grabbed a menu to look at his choices. He still tried to figure out how Sherlock knew about him being a soldier. He looked up briefly from the menu, and saw Sherlock stare passed him and out the window as if he expected something or someone. This started to leave a bad taste in John's mouth. The texting when he first saw him. Guessing he was a soldier. Free dinner. Waiting for something. Something was unusual about this little meeting of theirs, but then Sherlock turned his gaze to John and cut off his though process a bit.

 

“When you sat down, I said 'Afghanistan or Iraq?' and you looked surprised,” it wasn't a question.

 

“Yes, how did you know?

 

“I didn't know, I saw,” as Sherlock said this, the manager had come back and sat a small lit candle on the table between them and muttered something along the lines of making it a bit romantic before he took their food orders. When the manager started to leave, Sherlock ordered a bottle of wine for the two of them. John then tried to ask his question again, but Sherlock had cut him off once more, “in your message to me, you said you're not very keen to the idea of meeting someone online, yet here you are anyway. Why?”

 

“Well, honestly, my sister went behind my back and made me a profile. Then her, and her wife, and my- and another person I know told me I should try it out and go on a date,” John cut himself off as he took a sip of his water. “So here I am, making everyone else happy, and doing as they ask. All for the sake of them getting off my back about it.” John bit his tongue a bit at his last remark. He was afraid that it had come across a bit rude, or that it let the man believe he wasn't at least somewhat interested, but he saw Sherlock smirk.

 

“Turn around and look at the man sitting at the table by himself by the door,” Sherlock let his voice drop low to keep quiet, and John turned over and saw the man; he wasn't there when John had walked in. The man had on a grey coat on, a colorful striped scarf, and a brown plaid hat on. He looked normal to John, other than the newspaper he held up and used to conveniently cover his face from their point of view. He hardly seemed like he was doing much reading. “That's my idiot brother. I have an agreement with him that I go on at least one date every few months for him to stay out of my personal life the rest of the time. He thinks I'm getting too old to be alone, and that I deserve companionship. So, it looks like we're both here to get people off our backs.” With that, Sherlock picked up his glass of water and did a mock toast, and John followed; he could drink to that.

 

After their little toast, the manager brought out both of their dinners as well as a bottle of their finest wine for them to share. John raised his brow at the bottle as he noticed the quality and turned to Sherlock.

 

“So, all of this is on the house?” he asked for reassurance.

 

“Yes. A few years back, I helped Angelo out with some legal trouble, and he feels he's forever in my debt, so I always get free meals and drinks when I come here,” Sherlock opened the wine bottle and poured them both a drink while John chowed down on his pasta.

 

“Legal trouble? Are you a lawyer of some sort? I saw on your profile that you had down consulting detective. Can't say I've ever heard of that line of work before.”

 

“The only one in the world. I invented the job. When the police are out of their depth, which is more times than none, they consult me,” Sherlock paused before taking a few bites of his pasta. “So, no. I'm not a lawyer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Mycroft's espionage outfit](http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5217/5485900049_ee7979c0b3_z.jpg)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the dialog is a little out of order, and not verbatim from the script. Just as a head's up.

As they finished their dinner and their last glass of wine, they both left the restaurant. Sherlock ignored his brother on the way out to maintain the illusion that he wasn't aware he was being spied on, and to avoid any dull conversation with him. Once outside, they stopped and looked at each other for a moment. John had finally noticed how much taller the other man was compared to him. They stood there, both at a loss of words, and yet neither of them made an effort to leave. Sherlock then offered to walk John home since his sister's flat wasn't too far out of the way. John began to chuckle a bit during their walk, and managed to get a look of curiosity from Sherlock.

 

“Earlier tonight, my sister told me I ought to bring you home with me tonight,” John chuckled a little more, and Sherlock joined in.

 

“Is that so?” Sherlock walked a little closer to John; a grin stretched across his face.

 

“In her words,” John had tried to imitate his sister the best he could, “you should bring this bloke back home, take him into your room, into your bed, and shag his pretty little mind out.” John chuckled without any bit of embarrassment. All the wine he drank had finally caught up to him. They continued their walk in silence for a little while longer before John started to slow down, then came to a halt. “Well, this is me,” John nodded towards the building they stood in front of.

 

“Well then, aren't you going to invite me in? Let's not disappoint your sister,” Sherlock was mere inches away from John's face. John could feel his warm breath against his cheeks, and he realized the hole he had dug himself in. Against everything his mind had tried to warn him about earlier, he really wanted to kiss that man's lips and take him right then and there. Against everything, John really wanted to sleep with him without hesitation. The wine and his body's desire for sex were winning the battle over his fear and anxieties.

 

“We only just met, and you're already looking to shag?”

 

“Problem?” Sherlock's eyes moved down to John's lips, then back up to his eyes. Both men stood their ground; neither of them made a move to get closer to the other.

 

“We don't know a thing about each other,” John held his gaze, but knew this was a pointless thing to argue. He had plenty of one night stands before. His nerves have caught up to him.

 

“I told you, I see things. Things no one else sees.” Sherlock smirked with a bit confidence before he continued, “I know you're a soldier. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists – you've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk, but you seem like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That suggests the original circumstances of the injury were probably traumatic – wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq,” Sherlock bit the inside of his cheeks and adverted his eyes away from John. He looked tense.

 

“That's brilliant...” was all John could say. He really was genuinely impressed.

 

“Really, you think so?” Sherlock looked as if he was reading John's face, and his face softened.

 

“Yes, absolutely extraordinary.”

 

“That's not what people normally tell me.”

 

“What do people normally tell you then?”

 

“Leave,” Sherlock swallowed as if it was a painful thing to admit. He hated when no one took him seriously for what he could do.

 

“Well, I'm not normal people, I guess,” John laughed as he tried to ease Sherlock's tension a bit.

 

“No, I guess _we're_ not,” Sherlock continued to read John. Sherlock knew he wasn't lying, and he meant it. He wasn't sure what it was, but John was definitely different than others he had met before. John was amazed by his skills. He didn't try to exploit it like some party game or dismiss it like it was a joke. He had actually impressed the man, and that drew Sherlock closer rather than leaving him there to stand at his doorstep as he left. “So, are you going to invite me in, or are we going to stay out here all night?” Sherlock couldn't hide his grin as John swallowed, and took a deep breath. John felt himself growing more aroused by the second. Had Sherlock's voice grown deeper than it already was?

 

“What if we did?” He grabbed Sherlock by the waist and pulled him into his body before letting his voice drop low, and full of arousal, “what if I wanted to take you right here on the sidewalk for anyone to walk by and see?”

 

“An exhibitionist? Interesting. That's a first,” Sherlock sounded intrigued, even though to John, it sounded like teasing. He tensed up a little and let go of his grip on Sherlock. He kept close, however, and looked around to see if anyone had been watching. He then nodded for the front door, and for Sherlock to follow.

 

“Come on, let's get you inside.”


	7. Chapter 7

Once inside, John closed the door behind the two of them quietly, and listened for any movement around the house. It sounded like Harriett and Clara were still in the living room, watching TV. He moved through the house slowly, and peered around the corner and into the living room. The TV was on, but Harriett and Clara weren't there. John then checked the kitchen and found that a note was left on the fridge. John got closer to read it and it said: _Got jealous that you went out, so we did too. Be back late. Don't wait up. P.S. If you need condoms, we left some on your nightstand. And some lube._ John laughed and shook his head at the note and turned to Sherlock who stood in the archway to the kitchen.

 

“Well, it looks like we're here alone for the night,” John smiled as Sherlock started to move closer.

 

“You tensed up when I called you an exhibitionist, yet just moments before, you asked how I felt if I had let you have me right there on the sidewalk for anyone to walk by and see. You were perfectly fine until I put a label on it. Why is that?” Sherlock looked closely at John's face, trying his hardest to read it again. John shifted on his feet, suddenly he felt uncomfortable in his own skin.

 

“I'd prefer not to talk about it,” John said as he looked down on the ground. Sherlock didn't stop moving closer, nor did he stop with his questions.

 

“You are so self-conscious and bothered by it, yet surely you know it's not something that's uncommon for someone to be, so why is it that you're so ashamed?” Sherlock wasn't really asking John directly. He asked himself, as if he was trying to solve a puzzle. Sherlock just needed the extra pieces to put it together to solve this new little mystery.

 

“Sherlock, please...” John pleaded. He bit the inside of his cheek. He knew exhibitionism wasn't uncommon, but that really wasn't what this was about.

 

“You don't have to keep it bottled in,” he felt Sherlock's breath against his cheek again. It wasn't fair. John's body still continued to betray him. He wanted to run and hide away. He wanted to go back and change his mind about agreeing to date. Yet, his arousal spread through his body like a toxic venom. His groin stirred as Sherlock breathed heavily against his ear, “you can tell me, John.”

 

Finally, his body lashed out and the poison began to take hold. He grabbed hold of the lapels on Sherlock's coat and held him in front of his face. He stared into Sherlock's eyes, and Sherlock stared back. John had wanted to punch Sherlock, but he also knew that he also really _didn't_ want to do that either. John held him there a bit longer and realized that he was losing the battle he had with himself.

 

“Here's what I want you to do,” John's voice dropped low, and his breathing had become erratic. “I want you to turn around and leave the kitchen, follow the hallway down to the second door on the left. I want you to go in there, close the door, undress yourself, and wait for me.”

 

He let go of Sherlock's jacket and practically pushed him back a little bit, then turned away from the man; a gesture that meant he would say no more. He listened as the footfall started to move away from him. He stood and listened as the noise continued to grow softer. He had expected to hear the front door open, then slam shut right after, but instead, he heard the door to his room close. He froze for a moment realizing that Sherlock had decided to stay.

 

John had turned and left the kitchen as well. Instead of heading straight to his bedroom though, he headed straight for the bathroom. He went to the sink and turned the cold water on, cupped his hands under the ice cold water, and splashed it on his face. Even though the cold sent unwelcoming chills through his body, it helped him stop and think a bit more clearly. He couldn't believe Sherlock had listened to him so easily without any resistance, or didn't walk out, or tell him to piss off. He turned the water off, and wiped his face off with a hand towel before looking at his reflection in the mirror.

 

He knew himself well enough to know he had finally passed a point of no return. Even if he had gone to his room and told Sherlock to get dressed and go home, he knew that just one look at Sherlock's naked body would make it impossible to get the words out. John took a long look at himself and thought long and hard about whether or not he should continue to give into his desire. Arousal was always the one thing that brought out the side of him that he had hated about himself, but there was just no way to put a stop to it. There was no fighting this part of him.

 

He took one last deep breath before he headed down to his bedroom. With each step, he tried to build confidence. He tried to be the soldier he had become; the soldier he once was. As he neared his door, he finally had every intention of giving in and not holding back. He would just accept the fact that if Sherlock had wanted to stop and leave, that John would let him do so, and that he would go back to believing that he was still incompatible. With that in mind, he carefully placed his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it to open the door.


	8. Chapter 8

When John entered the room, he instantly looked at Sherlock. The man sat there on the edge of the bed entirely naked, and held John's gaze. The man had no sense of shame being naked around a stranger seeing as how he hadn't hidden under the blankets or used his hands to cover himself, and John admired him a bit more for it. He couldn't help, but look down towards the man's cock. He wasn't fully erect, but he certainly wasn't flaccid either.

 

John closed the door behind him and made his way over to the bed. Sherlock hardly seemed to tense or shy away, so John could tell that Sherlock most certainly wanted to be there, and it really helped John come to terms with his final decision. He stopped and stood in front of the man, who had sat up straight and kept his eyes on him, and John brought a hand down to pet the man's head gently. Sherlock slightly leaned into the touch, but never slouched or closed his eyes. There was something about his gaze that drove John crazy. It was challenging. John then decided to grab a handful of hair and tugged his head back a bit. He could tell he caught Sherlock off guard by the noise that escaped his throat.

 

“You did a good job doing as I asked, but are you always good at following rules?” John eased up on his grip, but still kept the hair in his hand.

 

“Only if I see them as being necessary,” Sherlock sounded calm.

 

“And you thought getting naked and waiting in my bedroom was necessary?” John tugged at his hair again when he saw him go to speak, but this time a little harder. He could see Sherlock fight the noise from escaping as he tried to answer.

 

“Not so much for my benefit as it is yours,” Sherlock felt John let go of his hair. Normally, John would have taken this opportunity to stop everything, but he took the compliment instead.

 

“Stand up.” John stepped back and gave room for Sherlock to stand, and the man stood. As Sherlock stood there, John began to strip himself of his own clothing. He did so while looking at the other man. He started with his vest, followed by his button up shirt, letting them pile carelessly to the floor. He watched Sherlock's eyes study his body, but when John reached down to start on his pants, he licked his lips and leaned forward a bit. “Keep your eyes on mine.”

 

Sherlock nodded and took a deep breath as John began stripping himself of his jeans. He could tell that he was starting to affect on Sherlock. John grinned as he hooked his thumbs into his undergarments, slowly started to push them down over his hips, and watched as Sherlock's eyes fluttered a bit. John chuckled and started to push them down and past his thighs, then let them drop down around his ankles. He stepped out of them and moved toward Sherlock. He reached down and gave himself a few strokes, before brushing past Sherlock, then laid down on his bed. Sherlock turned to follow John's movements as he tried to keep his eyes at head level, yet found it to be a difficult task. John sat with his back against the headboard and sat there a few more moments longer testing Sherlock's ability to stay focused.

 

“When I give you instructions to, I want to lie down at the end of the bed facing me. I'm going to give you that lube that's sitting on my nightstand, and you're going to put on a little show for me as you work yourself open to take my cock. I want you to watch as I stroke myself while I'm watching you. Can you do that?” John heard Sherlock's breath hitch.

 

“I can do that,” he replied back. John could see now that Sherlock was fully hard. He also noticed how flushed his faced had gotten when John had mentioned the word _show._ John reached out and rested his hand on Sherlock's forearm. He needed to set things straight before they continued on.

 

“Sit down, and let's talk,” John pat the bed next to him, and Sherlock sat down. He still kept his back straight, and he now looked a little tense. “I want you to know that at any point, you can stop what we're doing. You can leave, and I won't stop you. You don't have to do or agree to anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

 

“I'm not uncomfortable,” Sherlock chimed in quickly, but John didn't believe him.

 

“I'm going to make a rule, and regardless if you feel it's necessary, I want you to follow it. If at any point you want to stop what we're doing, for any reason, no matter what, I want you to say loud and clear, 'red light'. And if you want to slow down or take a breather or just put things on pause for a bit, I want you to say 'yellow light'. Now with that being said, I'll check on you every little bit, and I want you to say 'red light', 'yellow light', or 'green light' which will let me know that you're alright. You don't have to say anything else.” John paused for a moment to let it sink in. He watched as Sherlock's mouth pulled back in amusement to what John was saying.

 

“Safe words.”

 

“Yes. Safe words. This will only work if you use them.” John squeezed the man's arm, then let go. “So, are you ready to carry on?”

 

Sherlock paused for a little bit, he regained his challenging gaze once more, then simply answered.

 

“Green light.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sex
> 
> So shocking, right? Most of you knew this was where it was heading, but hey, who knows. You'll also realize that this is a bit longer (you're welcome), but I find it ironic, because I typically hate writing sex scenes (hard to explain).
> 
> Anywho, I also want to say this: I introduced the red/yellow/green light system in, because I want it known that from this point forward, there will be nothing that is non-consensual, and that's a HUGE factor into where I plan on taking this story. I'll continue to tag, but unless I really write it in, I'm not going to tag anything has dub-con or non-con. I hope you all can accept that.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

John leaned over and grabbed the lube from his nightstand and pushed it into Sherlock's hand. He shifted to a more comfortable position, then he nodded towards the other side of the bed.

 

“Get to it then,” John allowed his voice to drop low, and quiet as he began stroking himself again, nice and slow.

 

Sherlock crawled over to the other end of the bed, turned to face John, then lied down slowly onto his back. John tossed him an extra pillow to prop himself on, so he could sit up and face John a bit better. Sherlock used his thumb to open the cap of the lube bottle and squeezed a little onto his fingers. He first rubbed the lube against his opening, and spread it across the area and slightly teased himself. He did this once more before he coated his fingers deliberately, then set the bottle off to the side. His breathing had started to pick up as he brought his hand back down between his thighs. Sherlock gently started to rub his finger over his hole, massaged it in small, slow circles before he pressed a finger inside of himself and let out a slight gasp at the intrusion.

 

“There we go. Everything alright?” John licked his lips at the sight, especially at the flush that spread across the other man's face once more. He watched Sherlock swallow and close his eyes.

 

“G-green light,” Sherlock's eyes opened back up slowly, and he removed his finger before pushing it back in a bit further. He did this several more times till he managed to work his second knuckle completely inside of him. After a few more times of Sherlock removing his finger and inserting back inside of him, he decided to try for two. He repeated the same steps he took with his first finger; he pressed his fingers inside of him and pulled them back out till once more he got passed his second knuckle. Once he buried his fingers inside of himself, he began to scissor his fingers, and allowed his hole to stretch a bit more.

 

“I want to watch you fuck yourself on your fingers for a bit.” John was completely hard. His cock had started to leak precum, and he used his thumb to spread it over the whole head of his cock while he continued his slow stroking. Sherlock did as John asked of him, and ceased his scissoring, and focused on finger fucking his hole in matched rhythm to John's stroking. John noticed and smiled, then stopped altogether to see if Sherlock followed, and he had. John chuckled, “I didn't tell you to stop.”

 

Sherlock had started to finger himself again, with John resumed his stoking along with him. Sherlock still chose to follow John's movements, and John used it to his advantage. He sped up and slowed down, and Sherlock followed along. John admired the man's determination to match him, but John felt himself become a little more aroused than he anticipated to so early on and he had removed his hand from his cock; the night had just began, after all. Sherlock had almost stopped again, until he realized John wasn't teasing. His breathing began to pick up some more, and he had a hard time keeping his eyes open.

 

“Why don't you work a third finger in? Need to make sure I won't hurt you when you take my _throbbing_ cock inside you,” John let out a low, breathy laugh. He hadn't missed the slight moan Sherlock let out as John had dirty talked to him. “You liked that, didn't you?” John took hold of his cock again and gave it a few long, slow strokes from the base of his shaft and all the way up to the head. “You _want_ my cock inside you, don't you? You can't wait to feel _my_ cock inside you, can you?” Sherlock had moaned again, and had snarled at John; the teasing had driven him mad.

 

Sherlock did as he was told though, and started to work a third finger inside of himself. This had been a reminder to Sherlock that it had been a while since he had slept with someone. He felt a slight burn at the stretch of trying to work three fingers in passed his knuckles, but willed his body to relax and accept them. He worked them slowly as he made sure not to hurt himself. John noticed a slight tremble in the man's thighs, and John couldn't sit there and wait any longer. He leaned forward on the bed and grabbed hold of Sherlock's wrist, stilled it, and then tugged on it, motioning for Sherlock to move closer. John continued to pull Sherlock until he was forced to straddle his thighs. He grabbed the back of the other man's head and brought his face down close to his. He let their lips brush, but neither of them moved in to kiss the other.

 

“You know, I was thinking about having you ride me,” John started, and moved his lips closer to Sherlock's ear, allowing his lips and breath to ghost over his cheek along the way. “I was going to let you use my cock to get yourself off on, but,” John began to run his fingers down along Sherlock's spine, and stopped just at his waist line. “I don't think you really want that at all, do you?” John nipped at Sherlock's ear, and this brought out the most delicious noise that John had ever anyone make before. It was a growl of frustration, but mixed with a moan of desperation and need. “What's it going to be?”

 

“Green light,” Sherlock had growled at him again. His cheeks were flushed brightly red, and his cock was ridiculously hard, yet he made no attempt to take control of the situation or fight John's unrelenting teasing. John kept hold on Sherlock's head, but had leaned over to grab a condom off of the nightstand. He ripped the packaging open with his teeth and spat the foil out of his mouth and off to the side carelessly. With one hand he rolled out the condom over his shaft and pressed his forehead against Sherlock's. It was now John who was breathing heavily as he finished rolling the condom down to the base.

 

“Be a dear and lube my cock, will you? I want to see what my cock looks like in your hand,” John let go of Sherlock and watched him grab hold of the bottle and squeeze a generous amount of lube in his hand, before he took John in his hand and carefully coated the condom with lube. John admired Sherlock's determination to please; it would come in handy later on if they decided to _date_ , he thought. “Your hand looks nice wrapped around my cock like that, but I think I want it inside of you now, so are you ready for it?” Sherlock simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. “Use your words, Sherlock.”

 

“Green light,” his voice sounded rough. John could destroy him. He could easily tear this man down and reduce him to nothing, but a hot mess, and that was exactly what he had intended to do. He ran his hands through Sherlock's hair a little, allowed the anticipation to build some more, and made the man wait for it even longer, before he gave in.

 

“Go ahead, then. Use my cock. Work for your release,” John paused then grinned at the man wickedly. “One more thing though,” he took hold of Sherlock's cock right at the base, listened to the man's breath hitch as he gasped, but made no inclination to stroke him. “No touching yourself.” With that, John let go, used his thumb to wipe off a dribble of Sherlock's precum, then brought it to his lips to lick it clean. Sherlock slightly shuddered at the sight.

 

Sherlock then sat up and hovered above John, then sought out his cock. He took hold, and then let his body drop down just enough to line up John's cock properly. Once Sherlock was ready and relaxed, he slowly lowered himself down onto John's cock. Sherlock paused every couple of inches, and allowed himself time to adjust to the stretch. John made no attempt to buck into the man, and restrained every urge to do so as well. Sherlock had grabbed the headboard of the bed on both sides of John's head to help brace himself as he tried to lower himself down a bit more. He let out a little cry when he was half way down.

 

“Y-yellow light,” Sherlock sighed as he tried to relax, and John brought his hand up to cup the man's cheek, and ran his thumb across his cheekbone.

 

“Just take your time.”

 

Sherlock nodded and relaxed. John's touch had helped. Soon, he started to move up and down on John, inching his way down with each downward movement. John moved his hands to Sherlock's shoulder, and gently pulled him down in time with his movements. After a bit, Sherlock had managed to take in all of John. When that happened, John held his hands firmly down on Sherlock's shoulders, forcing him to stay there and adjust to the girth. The man wanted to fight him; he had wanted to fuck himself on John's cock, but John held tight.

 

“So needy, you are,” John laughed, and let his hands trail along Sherlock's arms and felt them shaking.

 

This allowed Sherlock to finally begin to properly fuck himself on John. He moaned instantly, and John ran his hands along the man's sides until they reached his hips. He simply let them rest while the other man did all of the work, and watched his face closely. He watched as the man's mouth hung open, heard the deep sounding moans escape, and watched as his head had started to fall forward. John brought one of his hands back up and picked up the man's chin.

 

“Look at me,” he cooed and Sherlock obeyed. “You like feeling my cock fill you up, don't you?” Sherlock let out a loud moan and began to ride John harder. John had fueled his arousal, and he continued on, “such a little cock slut. You like fucking yourself on me. You look so,” John used this time to take hold of Sherlock's throbbing member and began to stroke it slowly. “...sinful,” he continued.

 

John kept his one hand under Sherlock's chin, while the other gained a steady rhythmic pace. Sherlock was falling apart before him. His body shook, his breathing was erratic, and his penis was engorged with blood. He leaked precum with every stroke, which gave John plenty of natural lubricant to allow him to work Sherlock faster, and also allowed his grip to become firmer. John moved his hand all the way down from the base, and all the way to the head, gently giving it a slight squeeze each time, and listened as Sherlock grew more vocal.

 

“That's it, don't hold back, and you better ask my permission to cum,” John leaned forward and licked Sherlock's lips gently. Sherlock tried to turn away, but John wouldn't let him. He had started to blush with humiliation, but he looked John in the eyes and pleaded.

 

“Please...”

 

“Please what?”

 

“Please let me cum... please,” Sherlock sounded as if he'd cry at any second, and it sounded beautiful. John grabbed the back of his head and pulled his hair, turning the man's head in such a way that his left ear was against his lips.

 

“Cum for me then, you little slut,” John gently bit into his ear and growled while he stroked the man nice and fast.

 

Sherlock cried out as he started to cum, his seed landed on both John's stomach, and coated John's hand. John stroked him until he felt the man's body go limp, and heard the soft whine when the touch became too much. John let the man collapse onto him, and withdrew his hand from around Sherlock's shaft as it grew softer.

 

“I ought to make you lick up the mess you made, but I haven't even gotten off yet, so here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to flip you over, then fuck that tight little arse of yours till I can no more. That alright with you?” John stroked his clean hand through Sherlock's hair as he let him catch his breath. He felt the man's head nod in the yes motion, which made John whisper into his ear, “I can't hear you.”

 

“Green light,” Sherlock said between his heavy panting.

 

John pat his shoulder before he helped Sherlock off of him gently, and helped him lie down on his front side. He positioned a pillow under his waist and let Sherlock settle comfortably. To be safe, John added a little more lube on his cock before sliding himself back into Sherlock slowly and carefully and with little resistance. Once he buried himself completely inside of the man, he leaned over the man's back and started to fuck him hard and unrelentingly. He had let Sherlock have his go, and now John wanted to cum quickly. He knew the other man would be sensitive, but it was not a good enough reason for him to go easy on him. The man beneath him cried out with each thrust, yet John kept up until he finally reached his own climax and filled the condom with his cum. He carefully pulled out of Sherlock and let himself collapse on the bed next to the other man.

 

They both laid there in silence as they tried to catch their breaths. Sherlock hadn't moved at all since John had flipped him over, and John had noticed the other man's eyes were closed. He nudged him gently and waited for his eyes to meet his.

 

“You alright?”

 

“Green light,” Sherlock let a smile creep across his face, and John smiled back.

 

“You can stay the night, if you like. You can leave in the morning.”

 

“I might have to. You wore me out,” Sherlock rolled over on his back and pushed himself up to the head of the bed. “I'm impressed. I really only wanted to go out tonight to get you in bed, but I hadn't anticipated all this.”

 

“I feel like I should be insulted here,” John laughed.

 

“But you're not,” retorted back, with a laugh of his own.

 

“No, I'm not.”


	10. Chapter 10

After a few moments of lying there and trying to catch their breaths, Sherlock began to doze off, and John cleaned himself up before he crawled into bed along side the other man. John watched as the other man found sleep easily, where as John's mind began to wonder back to all of the fears he had previously thought earlier on.

 

He kept in mind how Sherlock had stayed, and how he had seemed to enjoy himself, but they had only grazed the tip of the iceberg with what John had shown the other man. John started to think about all sorts of things he could imagine himself doing to the man, and if he could get hard again, he'd be leaking, but he fought the fantasies away. He realized he gave Sherlock the opt out option, and he knew he wouldn't have hesitated to stop and let him walk out and leave. He had agreed long ago that he wasn't fit for anyone, because normal wasn't enough for him. As he continued to let his insecurities get the better of him, John too had fallen to sleep.

 

It wasn't till about three in the morning when the nightmares had begun. As John's dreams were filled with visions of the battlefield and old friends, his eyes had began to tear up in his sleep, and he had began to mumble. This had carried on for what felt like forever in his dream, but it was only minutes before he awoke and gasped for air, and let the tears fall from his eyes. It took him a few moments to remember where he was. He was home. He was in bed. Yet, he also noticed the man from earlier was standing in front of him, almost completely clothed, and had leaned down in front of him. He felt the man's hand rest on his shoulder.

 

“John, are you alright?” Sherlock searched his face for any more distress before he brought his fingers up to wipe the tears from John's face. “PTSD. You're still haunted by what happened to you in Afghanistan.” Sherlock was reading him again, and John wanted to hide. It was his burden to carry, and it was something he was still ashamed of. He chose to ignore talking about it, as he looked over at Sherlock's unbuttoned shirt.

 

“You're leaving,” simply let out.

 

“I would have stayed till morning, but I got an urgent text, so I have to go,” Sherlock bit his lips as he stood back up and began to button his shirt back up. He saw the hurt that splayed across John's face. “How about we meet for breakfast later? Let's say nine o'clock at that little diner we passed earlier.” John nodded, and Sherlock buttoned his last button before leaning down to meet John's gaze again. “You know they'll stop when you start to forgive yourself. The nightmares.”

 

“It was my fault they died,” John scoffed. “It was my job to patch them up, and I let them bleed out.”

 

“You were shot too, John. You need to understand that their deaths are not your fault. The sooner you accept that, the nightmares _will_ stop.” With that, Sherlock pushed back gently on John's shoulders till he stopped resisting, and then placed the blanket over John's body. “You tell anyone I tucked you into bed, I will flat out deny it.”

 

“Why are you doing this?”

 

“Normally I don't get sentimental, but you're not a lost cause. Just try and tell yourself it wasn't your fault and get some sleep.” Sherlock brushed his hand over John's cheek, which felt soothing, and also felt good enough for him to close his eyes. He didn't exactly believe what Sherlock had told him, and he felt a sense of betrayal if he let himself think in that way, but John had tried to anyway. He repeat the phrase: _it wasn't my fault_ , over-and-over in his head until he began to feel tranquility take over him and he slowly slipped back to sleep. He never heard the door close after Sherlock left.


	11. Chapter 11

Around eight o'clock, John had woken again. He felt well rested and refreshed, and had actually managed to get in a good night's sleep. The events of the previous night had replayed over again in his head, and he smiled as he remembered Sherlock's last words to him before he had left. He really had managed to make it through the rest of the night without being awoken by any more nightmares, and he was rather thankful.

 

John pushed himself out of them bed, and resumed his morning routine. He moved his legs off the side of the bed and had let his feet press against the wooden floor, but it hadn't felt as cold and unpleasant as it had felt many times before. His shoulder still hurt a bit as he stretched out his limbs, but the pain was dull, and hadn't lingered as it usually had. John felt like a whole new person, really. He got up and reached over where he had normally left his cane, but realized it wasn't there. This struck John as odd, because he usually never placed it anywhere else. He knew he'd have to search for it, but as he moved around his room, he really hadn't felt much of a need for his cane. The pain in his leg was nearly nonexistent.

 

With that in mind, he made his way out to the kitchen and was greeted by a groggy looking Clara who was chewing away at some cereal.

 

“Long night?” John smiled as he carefully made his way over to the table to sit with her.

 

“Harriett's still in bed. We overdid it a bit, but what about you? Did you bring home that bloke from last night?” Clara pushed the box of cereal over to John.

 

“Yeah, I did actually,” John chuckled as a flash of Sherlock panting flashed before his eyes.

 

“You actually brought him home? Did you sleep with him?” Clara asked as she poured herself a glass of orange juice.

 

“I don't sleep and tell,” John couldn't hide his smile.

 

“Oh my god, you little slut. Well, Harry will be happy to hear about that, and I'm sure she'll want all the details. That weirdo,” Clara chuckled as she put her empty bowl in the sink and turned back to John. “You eating?”

 

“Actually, I'm meeting him for breakfast at nine. Also, have you seen my cane lying around anywhere?”

 

“No, I don't think I've seen it, but a second date, already? Should I expect a happy announcement at the end of the week?” Clara teased.

 

“Very funny. It's just breakfast,” John rolled his eyes before he turned back and headed back towards his bedroom to freshen up and get properly dressed. He was rather surprised he was able to walk around just fine without the use of his cane. John thought he vaguely remembered leaving Angelo's without his cane, and made a mental note to swing by later on to check and see if it was there.

 

Once he was dressed, he headed out the door, and made his way down to the diner. The walk without his cane felt amazing, but couldn't understand how he hadn't noticed it's absence the night before. He smiled though, and took a deep breath. He felt that there was virtually nothing that could ruin his day.

 

Once he got to the diner, he looked around and saw no sign of Sherlock. He looked down at his watch and saw he was there about ten minutes early, so he decided to grab a table for two and enjoy a cup of coffee while he waited the other man's arrival. He had hoped the other man would show up soon, because he felt a little giddy about seeing him again.

 

John kept checking his watch every couple of minutes, and watched the door as he sipped on his coffee. He anticipated Sherlock to walk in at any moment, and John felt the butterflies in his stomach intensify with every passing moment. He felt like he was a teenage girl with a silly little crush. Every time the door opened, John picked his head up, but felt disappointment every time he looked and saw it wasn't Sherlock.

 

He checked his watch once again and saw it was only minutes till nine. He started to wonder if Sherlock was going to pull a 'fashionably late' thing, but he recalled that the man was at Angelo's before John had shown up the night before. John had finished his coffee and the waitress had come by to fill his cup up, and left some bread and jam on the table for John to nibble on while he waited.

 

Several more minutes had passed, and there was still no sign of Sherlock. John was almost certain that he had meant _this_ diner; they hadn't passed any other diners on the walk to the flat. John had finished his second cup of coffee, and the seat across from him still remained empty. He checked his watch again, and it had been a quarter passed nine. John justified in his head that the man must have slept in, and was going to burst through the door at any moment and apologize to John for being so late, but he still never showed.

 

The waitress had come by again to fill his cup and offered to take his order, but he insisted on waiting a bit longer. John had finished his fourth cup of coffee by the time he checked his watch again. Sherlock was almost an hour late, and John had started to take a hint that he wasn't going to show. The waitress came to fill his coffee up again, and brought him a water, and saw that John looked upset and hurt. She had asked him if everything was alright, and he sighed before looking up at her.

 

“I think I was stood up.”


	12. Chapter 12

John had gotten up from his seat and left enough money to cover his coffee, as well as leave a generous tip for the waitress, and then left the diner. He went out the door and lingered outside a bit as he looked for every way possible Sherlock could have taken to get to the restaurant, and still saw no sign of the man. He had finally given up, and decided to make his way towards Angelo's. His leg started to hurt a little as he walked, but John pressed on and ignored it.

 

He had luckily found and retrieved his cane from Angelo's, then decided to head back home. He knew that Harriett and Clara would have left the house by then, so he knew he would be spared of having them see how disappointed and shameful he felt. He made sure to walk passed the diner once more to see if maybe Sherlock had shown up, but there was still no sign of him. John shook his head and let out a sigh as made his way back home.

 

Once inside the flat, John went straight to his laptop. He figured Sherlock may have left a message for him online explain his absence, and maybe John hadn't read it in time to know. He logged into the dating website and looked for Sherlock's page, but he couldn't find it. John tried again-and-again, but no matter how he searched, there was no longer a profile under the name _Sherlock Holmes_. John sat back in his chair and scratched his head. He clicked on his messages tab, and only saw the message that Sherlock had sent him the day prior, but it had read _profile terminated_ instead of _from Sherlock Holmes._

 

“That bastard's gone,” John allowed himself to admit aloud and to himself.

 

He slumped back in his chair and tried to make sense of this. An urgent text at three in the morning. Stood up at breakfast. Profile gone. It almost seemed like Sherlock had disappeared. Had John actually scared the man the night before enough to cause him to disappear? John knew no other way to get in touch. He had no phone number to call or text. It really bothered John that this was happening; he felt like it was all of his fault, and that he had made Sherlock want to hide from him. Perhaps Sherlock had been in another relationship and had regret his decisions shortly after; that seemed to make the most sense. However, John couldn't shake the thought that this was about _him_ , and not Sherlock. He had to have crossed a line the night before, but he had given the man every opportunity to stop everything and leave.

 

John felt absolutely crushed. This made him further believe that he wasn't fit for him like he had believed the night before. He didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't want to let Harriett or Clara know, so he decided to make up some lie about Sherlock only looking for a one night stand. That seemed like the more believable and the one to draw less questions. John could accept the lie, but it didn't make the truth hurt any less. All that was left to do was try to find another person to ask out. John didn't exactly want to move on to someone else, but he knew Sherlock was done with him. The man had lead him on. He knew dating wasn't going to be easy to get back in to, and most certainly knew that it wouldn't pick up right away. He would suck it up and try again.


	13. Chapter 13

Two and a half months had passed since his date with Sherlock. He hadn't entirely forgave himself for whatever had gone wrong, but he did his best to move on and keep trying. He had gone on several dates since then.

 

First there was Jeanette, the teacher, and all she ever talked about were her dogs. John had seen dozens of pictures and learned the names of her three dogs within the first five minutes of meeting her. A Basset Hound named Toby, a Chihuahua named Tinkerbell, and a Saint Bernard named Rufus. John tried to stay interested, because she was quite stunning, but he quickly lost interest when she had gone on a rant about finding them matching sweaters for next winter.

 

Next, there was a man named Richard. Supposedly, he was an actor, but he was a very shy and quiet man. John could barely keep the small talk going, and Richard would continuously bury his face in his hands like an ostrich hiding its head in the dirt. It wasn't until John had gotten up to leave, that Richard had gotten up himself and ran out of the restaurant, and John was sure that his face was red with embarrassment. He was quite an odd little fellow.

 

Then there was Sarah. John had actually gone on three separate dates with her. She was sweet, and she was a doctor, like John. She had offered him a position at her office if John had wanted to work again. By their third date, she had invited him to come inside with her when he dropped her at home, but he respectfully declined. The day after, he came into her office and asked for the job, and she had told him they couldn't no longer date, and that they would have to keep things professional between them.

 

John just couldn't seem to win. He had gone out with several other people, but all the dates seemed to flop one way or another. He hadn't slept with anyone since Sherlock either, and every time between setting up dates with new people, he had always checked to see if the man's profile had reappeared again, but there was still no sign. He held on to a little bit of hope that he'd see the man again.

 

John had decided he'd give one more date a go, and then he was going to take a long break from dating for a while. He found another beautiful looking woman named Anthea, and they had agreed to meet at Angelo's at six that evening. John also hadn't been there since he had gone to pick up his cane on the day Sherlock had stood him up, and a little bit of sadness grabbed hold of him. He shook the thought and gotten ready for his date.

 

When the time had rolled around, John had found himself sitting alone at a table waiting for Anthea to show up. He watched the door, but the only person who had walked in since he got there, was a tall, older man in a sharp suit. He had smiled at John, and John smiled back and nodded, but ignored him for the most part. That was until the man had sat down across from him.

 

“John Watson, I presume,” the man held his hand out to shake his hand, and John stared at it, then back up to him.

 

“I'm sorry, do I know you?” John hadn't seemed to recognize the man at all; not that he could recall.

 

“The name's Mycroft. Mycroft Holmes,” his hand was still held out, and John had shook his hand before letting the name sink in. _Holmes_.

 

“Are you-”

 

“Sherlock's brother? Yes.”

 

John felt himself grow hurt. He hadn't seen or heard a thing from Sherlock, and suddenly his brother showed up while he was about to have a date.

 

“I'm sorry, I'm meeting someone-”

 

“Anthea. Yes. She works for me, but I assure you, it is I who you really want to see tonight.”

 

“So, you faked a profile to lure me here? I'm sorry, but what the hell is going on?”

 

“I'm sure you know about my brother and I's arrangement. He goes out on a date every once in a while, and I stay out of his personal life for the most part. Well, you two seemed to hit it off quite well.”

 

“I thought so too, until he stood me up the next morning,” John retorted.

 

“I assure you it was with good reason, but I'm afraid he hasn't made an effort to come apologize for it. That's why I'm here,” Mycroft smiled.

 

“I'd rather hear the apology directly from him. No offense.”

 

“Yes, I figured as much, so that's why I came here to give you this.” Mycroft slipped John a piece of paper that read: _221B Baker Street._ “This is the address to Sherlock's flat and I do hope you make some sort of initiative to go and see him.”

 

“Why should _I_? He stood _me_ up, remember?”

 

“Sherlock is special. I know you know that. He's not very good at being close with someone. I know he wants to be, but every now and then, he needs to be pushed. That's why I threaten to meddle in his personal affairs, like I am now.”

 

“Why me? Why are you here speaking with me? Surely he's moved on.”

 

“No, I can promise he hasn't been with anyone since the last time you were here. He deleted his dating profile right after you met. He has never shown an interest in someone quite like how he had with you. I don't know what you did, but I know he still thinks about you. You should stop by and see if you can talk to him. It would mean a lot to me, and then I can leave him alone like I know he wants me to.”

 

“Fine, but if this is some trick, you _and_ your brother can both go shove it.”

 

Mycroft laughed and got up from his seat and walked out of the restaurant. John still had questions and doubts, but he knew the only way he'd get them answered is if he went to Sherlock. Mycroft had finally given John a way to make contact with the man, and now he wasn't certain if he should. He had wanted to, but he still feared that he was at fault for causing the man to stand him up and disappear like he had. He was still worried he had scared him, yet Mycroft said that Sherlock still thought about him, and John hadn't stopped thinking about him either.

 

No. John needed answers. He was going to go see Sherlock.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's where I fear people might not like my version of Sherlock. Even after rereading, I kinda dislike my version of John here, but I'll fix them or something.

John hailed a taxi from Angelo's and gave the address to the driver. Along the drive, John stared out the window and rehearsed a few things he had wanted to say to Sherlock when he first saw him. At first he was upset and hurt, but then he started to get aggravated. The man didn't owe him an explanation, but John just couldn't understand why he had disappeared on him.

 

He hardly noticed the cab had stopped, but handed the driver some money and got out. He stood in front of the building and worked up the courage to ring the bell. He hadn't expected to be greeted by a shorter woman at the door and had asked if he had the right place. She told him that Sherlock's flat was just up the stairs and mumbled something about Sherlock potentially taking up any case he had brought to him, since John was a looker. John raised a brow, but the woman had walked off back to her flat and closed the door.

 

He made the ascent up the stairs, and found himself staring at the door he assumed had been Sherlock's. He took a breath and gathered his thoughts to find what he was going to ask the man first. _Why had he lead him on? Why had he disappeared during the night and vanished the next day?_ Simply _why?_

 

John had finally knocked on the door, and kept quiet as he listened for movement behind the door. He heard the slow moving sounds of footfall, and it built up the anticipation that resided within him at that moment. He started to feel that same pang of agitation he had felt in the cab, but when the door opened and he saw Sherlock standing before him, it had dissolved quickly. He had seen the irritation in the man's face before realizing it had been John. He knew the man hadn't expected him to be the one knocking at his door.

 

“John...” Sherlock quietly let out as his face softened.

 

John was at a loss of words once he finally saw the man. All his thoughts and inner dialog had ceased, and he stood there and stared back at Sherlock. There was a short silence before John finally said anything.

 

“May I come in?” John found himself asking, and Sherlock had stepped aside and invited him to sit. John took a quick look around and noticed there were things everywhere about the flat. Books were piled up, beakers and flasks scattered the kitchen table, and papers had covered the coffee table by the arm chairs and couch. John took a seat in one of the arm chairs, and Sherlock had taken one in the seat across from him. They sat there in silence again before John had spoken. “I just met Mycroft. He gave me your address.” With that, Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes.

 

“I should have known he was going to meddle, that twit.” Sherlock looked over at John before he settled in his chair a bit more comfortably. “You've got questions, I suppose.” It was a statement, not a question. He motioned the 'go ahead' to John as he bit his lips.

 

“What the hell?” John huffed a bit. “You left in the middle of the night.”

 

“I told you, I got a text and needed to go. I was needed on a high priority case. I would have stayed, otherwise.” Sherlock sat there to wait for more questions he knew John was bound to ask.

 

“We had plans to meet later, and you stood me up,” John swallowed a bit.

 

“I was still working. I meant to text you, but next thing I knew, three days had passed.”

 

“How do you lose track of three days?” John heard his own voice grow louder, but tried to remain calm.

 

“I rarely sleep when I'm on a case.”

 

“You-you're telling me that you didn't sleep for three days?” John had flipped a switch and had gone from upset reject to concerned doctor.

 

“I consider myself married to my work. I don't find rest easy until I solve a case.”

 

“Still,” John had flipped his switch again. “I couldn't reach out to you in any way. You deleted your profile and I didn't have your number, but wait, you had mine?” John's brows furrowed with confusion.

 

“I looked up your number when I left that night; only took a few minutes to find. That was when I also took the time to delete my profile. I _was_ interested in seeing you again,” Sherlock sighed.

 

“You _had_ my number this whole time? The past _two and a half months_? And you say you were still interested, but you never called or texted? I'm sorry, but I fail to see how this makes any sense. I'll be leaving now,” John rose out of his seat and started to head towards the door. He felt like Sherlock was feeding him nonsense, and realized that showing up at his door had been a mistake. Sherlock stood too, and made his way over to stand with his arm stretched and leaned up against the door, blocking the exit. This irritated John even more, and he held an intense stare with Sherlock.

 

“I'm going to let you in on a little secret,” Sherlock's voice was low and sounded dangerous. “My brother holds a minor position in the British government, and has access to every CCTV camera in all of London. Little does he know that I hack them every now and then. On the day I was wrapping up my case, I used it to locate a suspect without police knowledge, and I just so happened to flip through camera feeds and saw you, John Watson, being particularly friendly with a woman at a cafe. I didn't realize you would move on to someone else so quickly, so I left you alone and focused on my work and research. Regardless of my arrangement with my brother, a part of me really is interested in seeking out companionship, and you were the only person whom I met that treated me with decency and not as some side show freak, so I got a little hopeful that we had hit it off rather well that night, so I terminated my profile, because I thought I was finally done looking for someone.” Sherlock paused. “You may have thought I lead you on, but the truth is, you were just desperate after I left. I left an impression on you, and you couldn't find any other person to replicate the spark that you and I had. Am. I. Wrong?” Through the course of his speech, Sherlock had continued to keep his voice low, and had gotten incredibly close to John's face, and held his infamous challenging gaze.

 

John wanted to be mad with the man, and he was, but he couldn't deny anything that Sherlock had said. He did try to find someone else, but only after he thought Sherlock was gone. When he agreed to start dating again, he hadn't realized how much he missed being with someone. He wanted Sherlock, but feared he had driven him off. John was used to driving people away, but he felt he and Sherlock did have a sort of spark.

 

“You could have called. Two and a half months, and you still could have called me,” John swallowed. “I thought I scared you off.” Sherlock squinted his eyes a little and pulled back in surprise.

 

“Scare me how?” The tone and reaction in Sherlock's voice had made John mentally kick himself for saying anything. He wanted to take back and erase what he said, but Sherlock wasn't going to let that happen. “ _This_ ,” Sherlock motioned between the two of them,” won't work for me if you don't tell me things. I can see and read many things, John, but I'm not a fucking mind reader. Why did you think you scared me off?” Sherlock paused, “it's the exhibitionist thing, isn't it?” John averted his eyes.

 

“Sherlock, please stop,” John begged, but knew it was a lost cause.

 

“So what? You fancy a little kink? Some light BDSM? What's so scary about that?” Sherlock sounded snarky.

 

“It's not like that,” John spat out, and this intrigued Sherlock.

 

“Then tell me why you're so ashamed,” Sherlock had begun to back John against the wall, and trapped him by leaning both of his arms on the wall next to John. The man wanted to push John into revealing whatever it was that was bothering him, and John caved.

 

“It always starts out with a little name calling, or some sexy spanking, or light bondage, but it _grows._ ” John was distressed.

 

“Grows how?” Sherlock still pressed.

 

“My _desire_ to experiment with new things grows by the second. My thoughts of trying new things never stop, and occasionally I'd act on some of them, and my partner either gets so freaked out or uncomfortable, that they run. Far away from me,” John started to tense, but Sherlock closed the space between them even more.

 

“Do you see me running away or kicking you out of my flat?” Sherlock breathed heavily against John's cheek. He sounded confident. “You claim others have pushed you away, but you're just as guilty.”

 

John and Sherlock both stood there; Sherlock kept John trapped between him and the wall. The man knew that John could easily overpower him, even if he was a soldier no more. John took the time to let his body relax and let Sherlock's words sink in. He was pretty sure that Sherlock had flat out admitted he accepted John as he was, but there was still time for John to cross a line and lose someone else to his uncontrolled desires.

 

“You don't know what I'm capable of.” John admitted, and still wouldn't believe what the man was asking of him.

 

“That sounds like a challenge.” Sherlock's voice never faltered.

 

“Could be dangerous,” John's voice sounded soft and weak. He was losing the struggle with himself more than he was with Sherlock.

 

“Good thing I like danger, so what's it going to be, John?”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, everyone. Had some personal issues that kept me from writing anything that I agreed with. This might be the last update I get in before I take off for a week, so hopefully I'll have plenty of stuff to write once I'm back home.

John let out a huff and shook his head at the man who continued to keep him trapped to the wall, yet never made an attempt to push him away or say anything to the same effect. He wanted to just sit there in silence till the man eased off, but John could sense that Sherlock was not one to let something go unresolved so easily; the man would wait him out. It also didn't help, that the thought of Sherlock being on board with a little bit of danger sounded exciting. He straightened up his posture a bit before looking up at the man.

 

“What do you get out of this? If I agree, what's in it for you?” John watched as Sherlock finally pushed off of the wall and gave him his space, and didn't miss the eye roll the man had given him.

 

“Don't be an idiot. I already told you what I want. That's not what's important.” Sherlock made his way back over to his arm chair and sat down. John followed and took a seat across from him again before the man continued on, “You, however, would benefit far more from some sort of an arrangement than I would.” This had caught John's attention.

 

“How do you mean?” John sounded intrigued, but doubtful. How could he possibly benefit from the thought of scaring Sherlock off like he had with others. The man clearly had no idea how in depth John's mind could go, but Sherlock just smirked, leaned forward, and then propped up his elbows onto his knees. He began to speak quickly and softly.

 

“You have an overactive imagination that revolves around your desire to fulfill your sexual fantasies. You've tried to for years to suppress those fantasies, because you never quite found someone that was open minded or willing enough to explore them along side with you. The few times you let yourself go, your partners panicked or were simply too uncomfortable to venture outside of what they thought was the norm, and it has lead you to feel inadequate and incompatible entirely, which is complete rubbish. I can assure you that I am not close minded, because close mindedness is dull and can lead to too much stupid in one's head. I am a man of science, therefore I always need to keep my mind open for whatever possibilities or end results I come to when I experiment, so that's what I'd do – I'd treat this sort of arrangement as an experiment while also benefiting from the companionship that you and I would share along the way.” Sherlock had hardly stopped for a breath, and John himself was left breathless just by watching his mouth and listening to his words flow fluidly from his lips.

 

“I'm never going to get used to you going on about things like that. It's amazing,” John smiled. “So, you're saying that you're willing to make this work? I get the chance to indulge with my fantasies, and you're more than alright with that?” John couldn't help, but sound even more intrigued, even though a part of him still chose to believe that this wouldn't work out.

 

“Surely you know about alternative lifestyle, and the guidelines that follow to making it work, so we'd only need to apply that to the arrangement as well. Safe, sane, consensual. You already set up a wonderful safe word system. We'll discuss whatever is floating around in your little brain and do our best to make it work and act upon them in a way that won't let things get too out of hand. And as far as consent goes, well, this is my offer to you, after all.”

 

Sherlock straightened back up in his chair, and looked rather annoyed at this point. John started to realize that it was he who was over complicating things. He had spent so much time believing he wasn't any good for anyone, and that he'd find no one willing to accept the secret side to him, and suddenly there was an offer that seemed too good to be true. John looked into the man's eyes to ponder his decision, and to see if there was even the slightest bit of hesitation or worry or any other sign that the offer would be revoked instantly, yet John only saw that same strong stare that he was starting to grow quite fond of.

 

“Just so we're clear, I'm not looking for a submissive partner here. We don't need to have any sort of defined roles, unless somewhere in the future we both decide we want it, and we'll discuss that then.”

 

“Is that a yes, Dr. Watson?” Sherlock raised a brow, the irritation was finally gone.

 

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” John smiled and reached his hand out for an obligatory handshake to finalize their agreement. When Sherlock shook his hand, John's face had changed to one of confusion. “How did you know I was a doctor?”

 

Sherlock grinned and didn't say a word.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! The week long trip to the Keys was much needed, and I suffered a little writer's block when I go home, but I think I got it.
> 
> Also, I did a thing, with a certain line of dialog, because reasons, and I hope you all like it. Enjoy!

Once they shook hands, Sherlock sat up from his chair and offered to make John some tea. He happily accepted, and watched as Sherlock walked off into the kitchen. John stood to follow him, and took a good look at the mess that scattered the counters.

 

“How do you manage to find your way around with all this junk everywhere?” John leaned over to look into a few flasks to see if he could make out what was in them, making a few disgusted faces, but then turned back to Sherlock.

 

“It's organized chaos, and it's not junk. They're experiments,” Sherlock corrected him. John watched as he opened cabinets and got out a couple of tea bags, rinsed out a kettle that had already been sitting on the stove and filled it with some water, then put it back on the stove to heat up the water.

 

“I do hope I won't be drinking one of your experiments,” he said as he couldn't take his eyes off the kettle. Who knows what could have been in that before the man rinsed it.

 

“Oh please. I only use my kitchenware if I absolutely have to. The kettle is fine.”

 

John nodded, and tried to shake the idea of what other things in the kitchen could have been used for his so-called 'experiments', and watched as Sherlock turned and faced him. The man made his way over to John slowly and quietly, towering over him, and getting close enough again to where John could feel the man's warm breath again, but never made any contact with him. John easily and quickly became aroused by this, and had a feeling it was going to happen a lot more often now, and John was more than alright with that. He watched as the man's lips parted, and could faintly hear the sound of the man panting; clearly John wasn't the only one aroused.

 

“If I asked you to take me right here, right now, what would you do?' There was that low, rough voice John had missed. It was as if Sherlock had a switch that turned between his off put attitude towards things and his arousal. John had taken notice that when this man had sex on the mind, he'd sure as hell let John know.

 

“I'd take you,” John smirked.

 

“No, that's too simple. Show me just what goes through your mind. Come now, don't be shy.” Sherlock leaned in closer to John's ear, then licked the shell of his ear as he spoke, which sent chills down John's spine.

 

John also felt the man's hands brush against both sides of his waist line and casually dipped his fingers just beneath the waist band of his pants. This both excited John, but also left him feeling anxious, but just like the last night they had spent, two and a half months prior, the venom crept through his body, and began to cloud his mind. The anxiety and fear slipped away, especially with the help of Sherlock's insistent touch. John firmly grabbed hold on Sherlock's wrists, but not hard enough to hurt him. He fixed his gaze on the man, who let a grin stretch across his face.

 

“Part of me really wants to bend you over this counter top and take you from behind,” John could feel his breathing pick up as images began flooding his mind.

 

“Is that all you've got?” Sherlock was taunting John. It was a test. A game. Sherlock wanted to really see what sort of things John thought of on a whim.

 

“Now all I want to do is shove my dick in your mouth to shush you. I'd have you try to get me off before the water for the tea was ready.” John licked his lips before he continued, “and if I hadn't gotten off by then, I'd have you slow down and suck on me until I finished drinking my tea.”

 

John watched as Sherlock's face began to flush. John liked seeing Sherlock like this, and found the man's reactions to be quite interesting. The man always took the lead in initiating, and kept his posture nice and straight, and his attitude determined, but once John entered the game and played along, Sherlock began to soften and relax, and quickly let himself become the follower rather than the leader. The man also seemed a bit more shamefaced as they engaged, especially when John talked dirty to him. John let go of Sherlock's wrists and brought one of his hands up to cup the side of the man's cheek, and gently brushed his thumb along his cheekbone.

 

“Sherlock, are you alright?”

 

Sherlock didn't mistake John's question for one of concern. The man knew what exactly it was that John was asking him. Yet, even though his face felt hot under John's touch and his face was obviously a lovely shade of pink, he still grinned and chuckled a little, before looking John in the eye.

 

“Green light,” he said softly.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on making this chapter a bit longer, but since I haven't been home enough to write all of it, I'm going to make it into two parts. Also, I love updating as frequent as I can.
> 
> Warnings (though I'm sure you know): blow job -gasp-

John smiled at Sherlock and let his hand drop from the man's face and took a step back to lean up against the counter.

 

“Best get started then,” John nodded his head towards the front of his jeans.

 

Sherlock saw the bulge in John's pants and could tell how constricted and strained his erection must have felt being trapped behind his zipper, so he reached forward and pressed the palm of his hand against John's inner thigh, then trailed it up and over the hardness of his groin. John let out a sigh at the touch, and kept his eyes fixed on Sherlock's face.

 

He reached forward and placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, and firmly pushed down, gesturing for him to get down on his knees. The man complied and dropped down before he reached forward and began to unbutton and unzip John's jeans intently. Once the zip was down, Sherlock brought his hands up the John's waistline and hooked a few fingers inside both sides of his pants and undergarments and pulled them down over his hips, then reached down the front of John's boxers to pull John's erect member from it's constricted prison. John reached down to adjust himself comfortably, then began to run his fingers tenderly through Sherlock's hair.

 

Sherlock had started to lean forward to take John in his mouth, but John tightened his grip in the man's hair and tugged him away, and forced the man to look up at him. John didn't speak a word, but instead used his eyes to once more clarify Sherlock's reassurance before letting him continue on. Once Sherlock had said 'green light', John eased his grip on the man's hair, and gently massaged the area.

 

Sherlock took the gesture as a go-ahead, leaned forward again, and this time he kept his eyes fixed on John's. Sherlock let the tip on John's cock brush over his lips, effectively letting John's precum smear over his lips, leaving a glossy shine behind. John shifted a little in his spot, but kept himself in check.

 

“You naughty little tease,” John whispered.

 

When Sherlock had finished smearing John's precum over his lips, he pulled away just enough to give John a clear view of his mouth before licking his lips clean, nice and slow. John stared in awe as he watched the man's tongue glide over his lips. Once Sherlock licked his lips clean, he brought his lips down to the shaft and began kissing and licking along it's length. It took all of John's will not to grab the man's head and shove his cock down his throat and facefuck him mercilessly; he'd save that for another day.

 

“Do you like cock worship, Sherlock?” John asked, but Sherlock closed his eyes, continued to kiss and lick, and ignored him. John could see the the man's face starting to turn pink, and John grinned. He licked his lips and let his hand travel down from the man's hair, down his jawline, then under his chin. “Open you eyes,” John ordered quietly and Sherlock opened his eyes and looked up at John. “If I asked you to praise my cock, would you comply?”

 

“Yes, John,” Sherlock panted. John gently rubbed his index finger under Sherlock's chin before dropping his hand.

 

“That's good to know, but I think the water on the stove is getting hot, so let's see you get me off before it starts to boil, shall we?”

 

Without missing a beat, Sherlock wrapped his long, elegant fingers around John's shaft and began to stroke him a bit. John relished every stroke, and used both of his hands to brace himself against the counter top. After a few more strokes, Sherlock took the head of John's cock into his mouth, using his tongue to swirl around it and lapping up more precum that had started to leak again. John let his eyes close and his head roll back as he focused on nothing else, but the contact between the other man and his dick. Shortly thereafter, the man started to take in more of the tip into his mouth, and began to suck, making sure his saliva left behind enough of a lubricant so he could also stroke the base of shaft with his hand simultaneously. Sherlock started nice and slow, both sucking and stroking to the same beat; and it felt amazing.

 

“Keep that up, and you might just get me off in time,” John smiled and let out a huge sigh, easing some of his sexual tension and giving into the pleasure he was experiencing.

 

Sherlock made sure to keep the movement of his mouth and his hands in the same succession, and began to speed up a little faster as he heard John sigh. Sherlock was determined to get John off, but he also was torn between wanting to take his time. The more Sherlock struggled with whether or not he wanted to effectively get John off in a hurry or not, the more he began to ignore John's body language. Sherlock just continued to work John's shaft with both his mouth and hand, never losing their synchronization of movements, and John had started to get close. His breathing picked up, and he looked down check on the kettle, which was starting to steam quite a bit.

 

Now John had a choice to make: he could either let Sherlock sit there and finish him off right then, or he could sabotage his building climax by stopping the man, and then have him drag it out a lot longer. He decided the latter sounded much more exciting and entertaining, but struggled with just wanting to cum right then and there. Before he had another moment to dwell on it, he quickly grabbed ahold Sherlock's wrist and grabbed another handful of hair and pulled both away from his almost spent cock as quickly and firmly as he could.

 

“Time's up,” he panted hard.

 

Sherlock could see visible sweat beads along John's face and neck, and he grinned.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life hasn't been giving me much of a break, because I should have finished writing this days ago, but here it is!
> 
> Part 2 consists of: more blow jobs, cock worship, some hair pulling, orgasm control has been introduced, and slight degradation/humiliation (I'm sure this sounds worse than what it is, but you all have the right to know what you're getting into). Eep.
> 
> Enjoy, pervs. <3

“You have quite the self control,” Sherlock said rather proudly of himself and of John. If John had given Sherlock a few more seconds, he would have made John buckle at the knees, but he could tell John wanted more than a quickie just as much as he himself did.

 

“You have no idea,” John said as he tried to regain control of his body. Once he caught his breath, he let go of the firm hold he had on Sherlock's wrist and hair and then tucked himself back into his pants. “Now then, why don't I pour us both a cuppa and I'll meet you over at the couch?”

 

Sherlock rose from the floor and smirked as he watched John double check both of their cups for any residue left behind from any past experiments, then the man made his way over to the living room to wait for John. John poured water into both cups, then added a tea bag before picking them up and bringing them over to the couch, and then set them both on the coffee table.

 

Sherlock thanked him, but ignored his cup and noticed that John's pants were still undone. John followed Sherlock's eyes down towards his lap and shifted his pants down slightly and pulled himself back out. He looked back up to meet Sherlock's eyes.

 

“I want you on your knees in front of me,” John bit his bottom lip.

 

Without any hesitation, Sherlock shifted off of the couch, and kneeled down in front of John and kept his eyes fixed on John. As John held his gaze, he grabbed hold of his cock and stroked it a few times before holding it out centimeters away from Sherlock's mouth.

 

“Kiss it,” he told the man, and Sherlock promptly complied as he leaned forward enough to let his lips press against John's shaft in the same manner as earlier and the corner of John's mouth twitched up at the sight. “Do you like my cock, Sherlock?” Sherlock simply nodded and his face began to turn pink; John was growing accustomed to the color. “I want to hear you say it.”

 

“Yes,” the man replied, his voice soft and timid.

 

“Yes...?” John wanted to hear more so the man swallowed hard before speaking up again.

 

“I like your cock, John,” Sherlock spoke with a slight tremble in his voice, and it made John laugh a bit, which only made the man turn his face away from John's for a bit.

 

“I like seeing you like this,” John brought his hand up to Sherlock's chin to make the man turn back and face him again. “For a man who keeps himself so composed, confident, and cold at times, there's such a vulnerability to you, and it's beautiful.” John smiled, and watched as the man's eyes had grown soft at the praise. John held on to the moment a few seconds longer before turning the focus back towards his arousal. “I'd like for you to use those wonderful lips of yours and make sure you kiss the entirety of my cock, and between those kisses, I want to hear you praise it. Are you alright to do that?”

 

“Green light, John,” Sherlock's voice cracked with arousal and a little humiliation at how ridiculous his response sounded; John let out a soft chuckle as well.

 

Sherlock repositioned himself more comfortably on his knees, but before he had the chance to carry on with his task, John told him to hold off as reached forward to unbutton the top of his shirt. He asked Sherlock to unbutton the rest of it and take it off, and Sherlock did as John asked. Once the shirt was off and tossed aside, Sherlock grabbed a hold of John's cock, stroked it a few times, then leaned in and began kissing it all over. The man moved from the head, to the base, and randomly about the sides, and John cleared his throat as a reminder to Sherlock that he was waiting for the acknowledgment he had wanted, and Sherlock began blushing again. The man continued to press his lips generously against John's shaft as he began to speak up between the kisses he left behind.

 

_Your cock is the most amazing cock that has ever graced my presence._

_It's soft to the touch, but the hardest I've ever had graze my lips._

_I can't fathom the thought of any other cock inside me._

_I want your cock, John._

_It's so thick and absolutely wonderful._

_I want only your cock inside me._

_Mouth or arse._

_I want you to take me till I beg to cum._

_From just the pleasure I receive from your cock alone._

 

John had been rather surprised and pleased with how obscene and articulate Sherlock could actually be during this. He still heard the slight tremor in his voice, but the man delivered what was asked of him almost effortlessly once he initially began. Other than having to remind the man to start, in most other situations, he always had to ask the other person to keep talking, but not Sherlock; he was brilliant.

 

“Alright, you've done well. How about you go back to using that luscious mouth and those expert hands of yours and get me off properly now?” John brushed his fingers along Sherlock's cheek as the man took him into his mouth. Once he felt the man's hand wrap around his shaft again, he threw his head back and closed his eyes. “I'll let you know when I'm close. Just keep at it.”

 

Sherlock once again went through the motions of keeping his hand and mouth in synch with each other, and occasionally would stop and swirl his tongue over the head and he also teased the slit with his tongue. John could feel his stomach begin to clench tight as he started to get close, but he tried to take deep breaths and hold himself out as long as he possibly could. He rolled his head back forward and looked down at the man, who had already been staring up at him with than intense gaze of his, and they held it a little while before John got lost in the man's eyes and started losing control of himself.

 

“Oh, god, Sher- I'm gonna-” Without any other warning, John fisted Sherlock's hair tightly and pulled him rather harshly off of his cock again, and with his other hand, he took hold of his shaft. Almost instantly after that, John began to cum and released himself just under Sherlock's chin and partially on his neck and chest; this had been John's intention. Once he was spent, he let go of both Sherlock's hair and his cock and sagged back into the couch. “Bloody hell,” John let out a groan of relief.

 

“Indeed,” Sherlock said smugly. John shook his head and grinned at Sherlock's smugness, and sat up forward.

 

“Sit up straight for a bit,” John reached forward to help the man, and held onto his shoulders gently. “You alright? I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?”

 

“Oh, please. I'm not fragile, John. I've been hurt much worse on the cases I've worked long before I met you,” Sherlock let out a low chuckle, laced with obvious lust. John seized the opportunity to rub his hand over the man's bulge in his pants and looked down at the marvelous mess he had made on his chest. He watched as it had slowly dripped down the man's chest a little, and if he could get hard again from the sight alone, he would have willingly.

 

“What would you do if I decided to get up and walk out that door right now? Just leave you here as you are, sticky and hard, until I come back and see you again after work tomorrow?”

 

“That would be awfully cruel of you,” Sherlock chuckled again, but John hadn't joined him. Sherlock's smug grin fell as he saw the seriousness in John's face. “You can't be serious, John. All that work and no reward?”

 

“You getting me off wasn't rewarding enough? That's a tad insulting. Besides, I did say I'd come back tomorrow. You're lucky I only work half of the morning shift, so I can be back over here by ten.”

 

“This isn't fair,” Sherlock swallowed as he dropped his head to look down at his throbbing groin. “What am I supposed to do until then?”

 

John had heard this question before, and he knew it could be a dangerous one with the wrong person, but luckily they had their arrangement, and this situation was Sherlock's idea of seeing how creative John could be, so what was to stop him from holding back just because he had already gotten off?

 

“Here's what I want you to do. I want you to go find a shirt you don't mind getting soiled, and I want you to throw it on without cleaning yourself up first and sleep in it tonight. I want you to keep that shirt on until I see you tomorrow, and I promise you that the first thing I do when I come over is get you in the shower, get you cleaned up, and then get you off. Alright?”

 

Sherlock closed his eyes as he caught the gist of what John wanted from him. John wanted him to wait and show some restraint and self control. This, along with the first night they spent together, led Sherlock to believe that John had an interest in orgasm control, and desired to dictate when Sherlock could get off. This didn't bother Sherlock; in fact, it intrigued him. He may have slept with other people in the past, but he never really had any first hand experience in anything kink related, despite his open-mindedness with it.

 

“Fine,” Sherlock pouted. “No cleaning up, no getting off, and no touching until you return,” he looked over at John as he accepted his temporary fate for the next 12 hours.

 

John grinned and leaned forward to press a tender and praising kiss to Sherlock's temple. It was more than deserving, he thought, considering the past few times he had been in a similar situation, others had scoffed at him and called him disgusting. John was happy that Sherlock hadn't thrown a fuss and was keeping up his part of their arrangement, even on their first official night.

 

“Thank you for the lovely evening, and I will see you first thing after work, yeah?” John had made himself over to the door and Sherlock had followed him to walk him out; at least as far as his door frame, considering the state he looked in. “Not going to come down and flag me a cab?” John poked fun, and saw the blush across the man's face. “Only joking. Have a good night, Sherlock. Behave for me.”

 

“Good night, Dr. Watson,” he pouted slightly, which made John smile again. This was the start of something new and quite exciting.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's yet another scene I decided to break in half, but only because I'm most likely going to be busy with my new weekend class, and I wanted to update again before I go too busy and also because the next part may turn heads away? Some people can read anything and some others just can't, so I wanted to be respectful to my readers.
> 
> Warning (if it really applies here) is aftercare. Also, at the end, there's lead up to an implied sexual act to come in part two.

The next day ticked by hellishly slow for John. He had almost called up Sarah before work and told her he couldn't make it in so he could go straight back over to Sherlock's, but he knew that he needed to show as much self-restraint as he asked of the other man, and waiting would be more rewarding. Images of Sherlock shifting uncomfortably in his soiled clothing and wearing _him_ throughout the night had clouded his thoughts all day. Lucky for John, the clinic had a slow day, so the slight distraction didn't affect his ability to work too much, but it did drag out the wait time agonizingly longer. Therefore, John decided to sacrifice his lunch break in order to leave an hour early so he could surprise Sherlock. Once he left the office, he hailed a taxi and gave the address, but not before instructing the cabbie to get there as quickly as he could for an extra tip.

 

Sherlock's night had been hell also. His arousal had driven him mad. He wanted to touch himself and get himself off desperately after he closed the door behind John, but he also wanted to endure it; it was only for one night, after all. He did his best to retire to bed earlier than he was used to, and prayed to sleep until John arrived the next day. This hadn't been easy for him though as he groaned and tossed and turned in his bed, and the mess under his shirt had turned cold and sticky which only made him want to get up and clean himself off numerous times. He couldn't recall another time he had felt so dirty, and yet somehow through all of his discomfort, he still was turned on by it all; it was a vicious cycle.

 

It had taken Sherlock an hour after John left to finally succumb to a deep sleep, but being a man who slept so little at night, he was up four hours later. Between the time he woke, and the time he heard a knock at his door, Sherlock had decided to work on a couple of experiments he had been working on as a distraction. When he heard a knock at his door, he looked at the time and noticed it was a bit earlier than John said he'd be back, but he opened the door and there stood John smiling up at the man.

 

“I skipped lunch so I could come back early.”

 

Sherlock gestured for John to come in, and once inside, John took a quick up-and-down look at the man. He noticed how the man's shirt had creased and held it's shape in the night after drying, and how a few bits of it still clung onto his skin. He half felt bad, but half felt pleased by the man's willingness to endure this task through the night. Sherlock's eyes didn't meet his as he looked him over and his face flushed that lovely shade of pink, so John brought his hand up to cup the man's cheek and brushed his thumb over his skin gently.

 

“Let's go clean you up, shall we?”

 

Sherlock nodded and silently lead John to the bathroom. Once they stood in the middle of the small room, John carefully grabbed a hold of Sherlock's hips and spun him around to face him. He then began to peel the soiled shirt off of the man's skin, then pulled it up and over his head and tossed it aside. He then reached for the man's sweats and pushed them down over his hips and let them pool to the floor, learning that the man had worn no undergarments underneath. John seized the moment to take another look at the man. Sherlock had been completely naked in front of a fully clothed and uniformed John and he had anticipated some sort of verbal humiliation from John when he saw him go to speak.

 

“Are you alright, Sherlock?”

 

“Green light,” he said softly and let the tenseness in his body ease away.

 

John looked his face over for any distress, nodded, then opened the door to the shower to turn the water on. While they stood there and let the water heat up, John carelessly shrugged himself out of his work uniform. He then held the shower door open for Sherlock to step in and followed shortly after. John grabbed hold the man's hips again and stood him under the stream of hot water as he reached over and grabbed a sponge and bottle of body wash from the tiled seat inside the shower. He squeezed a generous amount onto the sponge before putting the bottle back, then gently pulled on the man's shoulder.

 

“Turn around and let me clean you up,” he said softly.

 

Sherlock turned and still refused to make eye contact. John sighed and began to scrub his chest tenderly. He made sure to scrub off any of the dried up crust that had been left behind before he stopped. They remained in silence for a bit longer, but Sherlock finally looked up and met his eyes.

 

“Talk to me. Are you alright?”

 

“I'm not used to anyone else taking care of me and I'm not very good with my emotions, and this is all new to me. I'm just trying to assess and adjust so I can hold up my end of the agreement. I will be fine,” Sherlock held John's gaze and saw him smile up at him.

 

“I'm very proud of you,” John cooed.

 

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock finally smiled.

 

John smiled back and started to clean Sherlock's arms, then his stomach, then his back, and then both of his legs. He made sure to clean all of him, careful not to tease Sherlock or accidentally brush over the man's newly formed erection. John hadn't forgotten the rest of their deal from last night, but he had wanted to make sure to show his praise and appreciation first. He could see how it had affected Sherlock, so he decided they wouldn't revisit this sort of thing for a while in fear of scaring Sherlock off for good.

 

“Which was worse? Not cleaning up my mess or the restraint from touching yourself?” John began to trail his fingers from the top of Sherlock's back down the back of his spine to his waist.

 

“The restraint is fine, but I've never felt so degraded, yet I couldn't help, but love every second of it,” Sherlock sighed as he came to terms and admitted aloud that he wasn't upset or hurt, but that he was just surprised about liking it more than he thought he would.

 

“Well, that's something we can explore again at a later time. I do believe I owe you some pleasure,” John let his hand slip over Sherlock's ass, and squeezed it. “Put both hands and elbows on the shower wall to brace yourself and bend over so your ass it sticking out for me, alright?” Sherlock grinned and did just that, and while he stood in position, he started to look over his shoulders. “Eyes forward. You wait for me.”

 

Sherlock turned his head forward and waited. John stood there a few moments to let the tension build up before letting his hand come down to Sherlock's bottom with a loud smack. His ears were graced with a soft groan from Sherlock, and he smiled. He stood back and watched the man for a few more moments and let the wait mess with his head and let him believe that another smack was coming, but instead, John dropped to his knees behind him and rested both of his hands on the back of Sherlock's knees.

 

He slowly moved them up the back of the man's thighs until he cupped both of the man's ass cheeks in his hands. John leaned forward and pressed his lips to the back of both of his thighs just under the cheek line. He alternated moving his lips between both thighs, then moved his lips up to the actual cheeks. He kissed them both a few times before spreading the cheeks wide with both of his hands.

 

“This alright?” he called up to the man. He watched as the man panted, and obviously knew what John had intended to do.

 

“Yes, please, green light,” Sherlock let out a soft moan at just the mere thought of what John was about to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sherlock's shower](http://i-cdn.apartmenttherapy.com/uimages/ny/carthero.jpg)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I am alive. I hadn't forgotten or given up on this (even though it's been almost two months). Life and distractions are to blame.
> 
> Anyways, your warnings are:  
> Rimming, more after care, handjob, and since I felt bad for making you all wait, Sherlock does a little trick at the end.
> 
> Enjoy~

John let out a little chuckle and spread Sherlock's cheeks just a little more before pressing his lips to his hole. He kissed it a few times before sticking his tongue out and teased the man with it a little. Sherlock's back arched at just the slightest touch, which only made John flick his tongue a little faster. After a few moments and a little squirming from Sherlock, John pulled away.

 

“I want you to tell me what you want me to do, alright? Just keep your eyes forward, and your arms and hands on the wall. Think you can manage that?”

 

John kneaded the cheeks in his hands while Sherlock kept quiet. John smiled a little at the thought of Sherlock's face turning pink.

 

“Green light,” Sherlock paused for a moment, before taking a deep breath. “I want you to use your tongue.”

 

“Going to have to be a bit more specific than that, I'm afraid,” John chuckled.

 

“I want you to-,” Sherlock paused again, feeling a rush of embarrassment rush over him and John pressed his lips into the man's cheek tenderly to provide some extra encouragement. “I want you to use your tongue and lick over my hole very slowly.”

 

Without a moment of hesitation or making the man wait anymore, John began to do as Sherlock asked him, which caused his breath to hitch at the contact. John then moved his tongue slowly over Sherlock's hole, and kneaded the man's cheeks again to continue his encouragement knowing Sherlock wouldn't get much out of how slow this was going. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek, swallowed hard, then spoke again.

 

“Flatten your tongue and let your tongue linger a little longer at my hole, occasionally pressing your tongue within the cavity.”

 

Sherlock felt John pull away and chuckle, and the man froze up.

 

“I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at... did you really refer to your arse hole as a 'cavity'?” John chuckled a little more, but before giving Sherlock the time to properly answer or defend himself, John leaned in and once more did what was asked of him.

 

Sherlock easily forgot about his embarrassment at this point, and let slip a soft moan as John tongued his hole a little deeper with every new lick. The man struggled to keep his head up and eyes forward after a little while, but he fought every ounce of wanting to give in. What he really wanted was to ask John to just stop what he was doing and take him right there, but he knew this wasn't about sex at the moment.

 

“J-John?” Sherlock swallowed. John never stopped what he was doing, but Sherlock knew he had his attention. “I need you,” he moaned. “I need you to touch me. I need you to touch my cock. Please,” he begged.

 

With that, John pulled away and let his hands drop from Sherlock's bum. The man stood still, not wanting to break his 'eyes front' rule when he felt John's hands grip his hips. John spun the man around and pushed him up against the tiled wall before rubbing his own groin firmly against Sherlock's.

 

“As you wish,” John said in a low voice, then proceeded to take Sherlock's cock in his hand. Sherlock threw his head back against the shower wall and John began to stroke the man quickly. “No, look at me, Sherlock. Eyes on me, darling.”

 

Sherlock's face was red, though John wasn't sure if it was from the shower steam or from him reducing the other man to this cute embarrassed yet aroused state he always seemed to get in. Either way, John smiled as the man opened his eyes to look at him. John stroked Sherlock quickly as not to tease, but to bring pleasure; it was his reward, after all.

 

“I really am proud of you, you know. I almost expected to come back here today to a clean and not so sexually frustrated mess of a man, but you really surprised me. How does your reward feel? Do you like my hand around your cock? Stroking you?” John paused a moment and pressed his erect groin to Sherlock's thigh. He wanted to show the man just how much he had been turned him on by being so good overnight. “The things you do to me, Sherlock. You look so sinful.”

 

“Please, John, go faster, I'm so close,” Sherlock was fighting with his treacherous eyes once more to stay opened and focused on John. That was really all he _could_ focus on. Everything else seemed to have been absent from his mind, and John was the only thing that existed anymore. Everything else, though important to the consulting detective, seemed so irrelevant in that moment. He was at John's mercy.

 

Still, John didn't play games or take advantage of the man in this state. He obeyed Sherlock's need for release, so he sped up and in return remained focused on only Sherlock and Sherlock's pleasure, ignoring even his own desire at that point.

 

“Don't hold back.” John paused and , then spoke low and huskily, “cum for me.”

 

John held the man's eye contact as he knew he had successfully pushed him over the edge. As soon as John had told him to cum, Sherlock's body quickly complied and gave into the demand, and John could feel the slickness of the man's cum cover his hand mix with the shower water. John seized the opportunity to take advantage of the extra slickness to stroke him even faster through his orgasm. Sherlock had at some point thrown his head back in the mix of over-sensitized pleasure, but never made an physical attempt to stop John. He squirmed around against the wall, continued to moan, and made very few verbal attempts to ask John to stop, but every noise that came out of his mouth was just another moan.

 

“You look fucking gorgeous. Think if I just kept this up that I can make you cum for me again?” John teased, but to his surprise, Sherlock had nodded. John's breath hitched, because surely the man was trying to tell John what he wanted to hear. “Prove it, cum for me again. Cum _now,_ ” and just like that, Sherlock cried out loudly, his voice sounded hoarse, and John felt the man's cock spasm in his hand again. This time, he removed his hand and watched as the man came again and watched his cock twitched through his second climax. “Bloody hell, you weren't joking,” John couldn't help, but smile and laugh as he looked up and down the rest of the man's body. He saw the tremble in the man's legs, and quickly helped him over to the shower seat. “Bloody hell,” he said again.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I got a -little- carried away with dialog in this chapter, so please forgive me? (sorry)

John finally noticed that the shower water had turned lukewarm, so he rinsed his hand off, checked to see if Sherlock needed to be cleaned up anymore, then he turned the water off. John looked over as the man just sat there, leaned up against the shower wall, and panted heavily. Sherlock looked to be in a bit of a daze. John smiled again, and watched the corner of Sherlock's lip turn up.

 

“Have you done that before?” John asked in astonishment and Sherlock chuckled a little in response.

 

“No, can't say I have,” he chuckled again, obviously proud of his ability to surprise and amaze John and even himself.

 

“We're going to have to try that again with you sometime, because wow,” John shook his head, still in shock.

 

“I'm afraid I'll be out of commission for a while,” Sherlock grinned as he pushed himself up off of the shower seat. As Sherlock stood, his legs wobbled, which caused him to lose his balance a bit, so he braced himself against the shower wall while John also reached forward to catch the man as a precaution.

 

“Let's get you out of here before you slip and break your neck.”

 

John opened the shower door and held onto Sherlock until both of his feet were on the shower mat then let go so the man could walk on his own. Though a little unsteady, Sherlock made his way over to the linen closet, grabbed two towels, then playfully tossed John a one before walking on to his bedroom.

 

“I guess I'm allowed to change into some fresh clothes now, right Dr. Watson?” Sherlock yelled out to John from his bedroom.

 

“Yeah, it's fine,” John towel dried himself quickly then grabbed his uniform off of the bathroom floor before taking off after Sherlock; for the first time of many times to come. Once he stepped inside the bedroom, he took a look around the room. He had half expected it to be just as messy as the living room and kitchen were, but instead, everything was ironically organized and pristine. He kept looking around in awe.

 

“Do you enjoy standing in the doorway to a stranger's room in the nude, Dr. Watson?” Sherlock grinned and moved around the room, using his bed for most of his support while he dug through his drawers for some nice clean clothes to put on.

 

“Do you insist on calling me Dr. Watson all the time?” John set out his uniform on Sherlock's bed, and they both started to get dressed. Sherlock chuckled quietly, and John asked, “what? What's so funny?”

 

“You enjoy when I call you it, don't fool yourself.” John kept quiet and continued to dress. “You were once a man of rank. I am merely trying to make you feel that sense of authority over someone again. Speaking of which, I've noticed the bags under your eyes are gone, so I take it that the nightmares have stopped,” Sherlock turned to look at John, who was looking down and fiddling with his shirt, and not necessarily trying to put it on. Sherlock's smile faded and his face softened when John looked up at him.

 

“It was easy to forgive, but it still hasn't been easy to get passed. Yes, the nightmares stopped, but there are subtle reminders everyday that I still have to deal with” John gave Sherlock a weak smile.

 

“I didn't mean any harm by it, I'm sorry.” John nodded and Sherlock could see now that he wasn't fiddling, but his hand was trembling. Sherlock turned his head a bit like a confused puppy, and then it clicked. “This isn't about the forgiveness, is it?” Sherlock's voice was low. “No. You're thankful, because the nightmares stopped, but not the _urge_. You aren't haunted by the war, you miss the battlefield. Of course, I should have noticed, it was right there.” John stared at Sherlock, trying to make sense of the man, but couldn't.

 

“Care to share with the class?”

 

“Oh, John. Your cane. Where's your cane? I know it's not at home. It probably got left at Angelo's again, because you really only forget about it when it comes to two things. One, when your sexual desire is getting the better of you, and two, when you feel like a fighter. You brought it to Angelo’s the night we met, but you never wanted to be there in the first place; which you should really thank your sister for. Then, you left it there when we headed home, because you knew deep down that you wanted to sleep with me that night, and no matter how badly you would have wanted to reject me, you still would have gone through. I also know you waited to pick it up after I didn't show for our breakfast date, because you felt rejected, and I am sorry. I saw you had it when on your date with that lovely young woman. And, I won't even mention about Mycroft-”

 

“Stop! Wait, slow down,” John paused as he tried processing everything and Sherlock watched as he search for something that quite wasn't clicking.

 

“Just ask, John.”

 

“How did you know that I wouldn't have rejected you the night we met?”

 

“I manipulated you. You showed your hand when you said you would have slept with me right there on the sidewalk, and I used that to my advantage.” John nodded while searching for his next question.

 

“And you knew I went to Angelo's _after_. How?”

 

“I asked him what time you came by the next time I saw him,” Sherlock smirked and John shook his head.

 

“And Mycroft?”

 

Sherlock's smirk fell and he turned around to ignore the question, but John wasn't having it. He grabbed the man's arm and turned him around to face him. He didn't ask the question again, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

 

“He monitored my profile, and made sure I held up to my word. Once I deleted the profile, he knew I had found someone who I would try my best to make it work with; you. So, after my case, when I didn't make any attempt of contacting you, he started to monitor you as well-”

 

“Hold up. He _monitored_ me?!” John let his hand drop from Sherlock's arm and he rubbed his forehead. “Why? Why did he monitor me?”

 

“Because you were the first, and because he always has to meddle, he wanted to do his own digging as to why we weren't working it out. He showed me your progress of dating, even rubbed it in my face to try to contact you, but I'm...” Sherlock just stopped talking. He didn't want to say anything more.

 

“A prat. Stubborn. A child. Those are a few things that come to mind,” John laughed off some of his tension, and Sherlock smiled too.

 

“Yes, well. I noticed you always had your cane on your dates, so I know you weren't looking for sex. You tried to replace me, but you ultimately failed. I'm quite flattered actually.”

 

“Yeah, and once more you never fail to be an utter cock,” John laughed again and Sherlock joined in as well.

 

After they both dressed, Sherlock lead John down the stairs and out the door. John would have stayed longer, but he had promised Harriet that he would help her and Clara clean up the house after work. Sherlock hailed a cab, and took notice that John's hand was still shaking as he climbed in the back of the cab. Sherlock stood there with his hand on the door before an idea came to him.

 

“I'd like to invite you out sometime.”

 

“Oh yeah, when?” John smiled at the man.

 

“I don't know when, but chance arises, I'll let you know,” Sherlock smiled back and John nodded.

 

“Sounds like a date then, I suppose. Just don't make me wait another two months, yeah? Keep in touch.”

 

Sherlock smiled and nodded.

 

“You have my word, Dr. Watson.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update has been due for a while, so here it is. Good news though, I have mapped out this story a bit more than I had, so now we'll see if writing will become a bit easier. (shame on me, I should have planned a bit better before starting)

Sherlock closed the cab door and the driver headed off to the address that had been given to him. John had a grin sprawled across his face as they drove off, and no matter how hard he tried to wipe it away, it remained. He felt that silly teenage crush feeling come back; like it was the day he was stood up. His smiled would have faded at the thought, but he believed Sherlock to be sincere about his little promise to keep in touch.

 

It wasn't long before he was back home and had paid the driver before making his way inside. He closed the door behind him, and could hear Harriett and Clara chatting away in the kitchen.

 

“I'm home,” John called out, and heard them both beckon him over.

 

“Good, you're here. We have something to tell you,” Harriett said with a smile as John entered the kitchen. He couldn't help, but smile back at her. She paused and bit her lips, looked at Clara for a bit, then back over to John again. “We're going to have a baby.”

 

John froze for a moment; he was at a complete loss of words. His body language, however, told them that he was happy and approved of the news.

 

“I'm going to be an uncle,” he finally said to himself. This prompted Harriett to jump from her seat and hug him.

 

“We go in next Tuesday to make the final arrangements. We have everything all sorted out, but we'll talk about it later. First, tell me how your date went last night,” Harriett had taken her seat back at the kitchen table next to Clara and John had made his way over to the counter to lean against it. He started to recall some of the choice words she had expressed about Sherlock when he told her the story about getting stood up. He swallowed hard, then got on with his story.

 

“Well, it didn't go the way I thought it would. Turned out, she never showed, but a man showed up instead-”

 

“Hold on a sec, a man was pretending to be a woman to go on a date with you? But didn't he know you were into men as well?” Harriett's brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“No, it wasn't like that.” John sighed before continuing, “do you remember the first guy I went out with?”

 

“Was that the one who stood you up at breakfast?” Clara asked.

 

“ _That_ arsewipe?” Harriett rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you socked him in his fuc-”

 

“No, it wasn't _him_ , but it was his brother,” John had cut her off.

 

“So, his _brother_ was pretending to be a woman?” Harriett snorted.

 

“Oh, Harry, knock it off and let him talk.” Clara leaned over and kissed Harriett, then nodded for John to talk.

 

“His brother faked a date to lure me out so he could talk to me. He gave me Sherlock's addr-”

 

“ _Sherlock_? What kind of name is-”

 

“Harry!” Clara had cut her off again.

 

“He gave me Sherlock's address and told me to go talk to him, so I did. We had a little bit of a row over what happened, talked things over, and now we're... official.”

 

John had stopped and finally let that bit of information sink in for himself. He hadn't really stopped and thought about what their agreement had meant, but to keep the more intimate details out, it was certain that they had officially agreed on dating. As he thought about it more, his big, wide grin came back. Harry watched as he smiled, and couldn't stay mad at the situation.

 

“Fine. I can see you're happy about it, but I'll have you know that if he hurts you again, I won't hesitate to break his face,” Harriett smiled and Clara rolled her eyes and playfully nudged her.

 

“I really think things will work out, to be honest. We talked about what it was going to take to make it possible, and we agreed to make it work, so I think everything will be alright.”

 

More than the thought of things working out for the two of them, was the thought of how great Sherlock was in bed. The thought had plagued his mind at that moment. He hadn't forgotten how he sacrificed his own pleasure for making sure to reward the other man after doing what he asked. He also hadn't forgotten how he _rewarded_ the man to orgasm twice in one session. As he continued to think about this, he realized that their next interaction couldn't come any sooner even if the man had burst through the door at that moment. He knew it was going to be a long day ahead of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I can fluctuate writing this and juggling school to try to keep it updated frequently and hopefully keep it interesting. I have lots of plans for this, with no ending in mind yet, so who knows how long this will be in the works. I've had ideas for this stuck in my head for months now, and I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing again (it's been almost 4 years!)


End file.
